Tuesday, November 30, 2010

walk with me

sweet child of the forest
angel of the night
walk with me
on streets of diabolical dreams
forget all the promises
the vulgar melodrama

when the stage is empty
and the curtains are down
we will pick up the broken violin
and weave our incandescent future
out of a forgotten tune

Saturday, November 27, 2010


listen to the chants of mirrors
ere the drop of blood shatters it
blood that bites the edge of the glass
blood that cuts the edge of a shard
blood that flows through the veins of desire
blood that flares up in your fire
blood that wets your dreams at night
blood that shivers on the glean of a knife
blood that bleeds your eyes at dawn
blood that splashes your soul at dusk
blood that you sip when you're making love
blood that you scratch lost in mire
blood that you scar ripping the skin
blood that dissolves the fire of desire
blood that trickles down your lonely walls
blood that you smell sitting in your lonely hall
blood that streaks across the skies
blood that clouds the moon with red
blood that glints in the eye of the bride
blood that shimmers when you are half past dead
blood that tries to warm the heart
the old, cold heart, bereft
of warmth since the ages of Thoth
blood that stains the winter's snow
trail of blood that follows you home