Crystal bed of sentient quiescence

amidst the dark bedazzled

tombstone of solar haze.

A night of sentiment bedighted

in grim and graceful lace,

watering her wake with dry tears

of lucid bewilderment.

A brilliant spear imbued

with roses and nightshade,

the warm solitude untouched,

immaculate by virtue of rebirth.

The altar of sacrificial breath

for the alluring ambrosia of the dead

tells the tales of an ancient distress:

a sorrow of loving hell unredeemed

by the armament of the deluded flesh.

Image by Mylene2401 from Pixabay

In the tenebrous good-bye of lass gold lights

In the sombre bosom of the afternoon cap

In the crib of night-time greyed mist

Does life blossom through

The heart-beats of Dame Melancholy

In the sultry breath of summer

In the ball of corpses coming

In winter rings of loneness

Does my spirit lift and flutter

Like aethereal butterflies

In a garden of delight

Beknownst to amore sepulchral

Serpentine opus furrows

Through the sensuous heedful romance clad

In undercurrents of Plutonian dance

And in this, my paradise,

The forgot mysteries of the diamond lithe

Trickle down with the cascading sky

The cool zephyr yearns for my skin warm

And I remember beauty

In the arms of the thunderstorm

Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

“You are one to abhor attachments that, like chains, hold you to an immutable terrain of flesh-eating corpses, yet by contradiction of your modus operandi, you launch against the Maiden of Oblivion with stark acrimony.”

~*~

“I see that being left alone with me has set your talents free. Do you enjoy what you see? Let all who have eyes to see and all ears to hear how all difference and manners come to be. Yes, I abhor her whose promise is weak, as I do loathe the haze of dormancy, yet that hardly makes me a hypocrite. You see, in my centuries alive, I have never measured progress through the eclipse and dearth of consciousness. I am the mindful memory who propels forward with sentient step, crafting jewels out of events that nothing may go to waste. I accept my responsibility toward myself, and erect pillars of serving grace. I forgo surrendering war to the deceitful bliss of forgetfulness, and embrace the shadows born from my ancient crevices.”

I laid siege to the empire of myself to haul my heart away from the throne of lies which years of exogenous depravity armored and bid the hideous sun to shine dead inside.

I burnt alive to rekindle the truth of the looped mask.

‘Tis not love of liquid gold; for this ancient fire is not capable of such devotion.

‘Tis not love of pious monger, but a massacre in infernally divine hunger.

This haunting craving is the wailing monster, the archfiend who clawed my consciousness in behest of warning me against the silent storm of the reasons blinded by veils enslaving desires.

No more!

The wretched one wished alone to remind me of all which I am not, and it took his perseverance along with the lower octave of a household’s tutelage to bring about the executioner to the exalted post upon which the gods of the underworld bled their might in sacrosanct horror as their passionate tears calcinated the world from above.

‘Tis destruction, the benison of a lofty power – death made into form.

‘Tis not love, but growth.

Image by Vinson Tan from Pixabay

I bleed for you, and shall do so forevermore until my sins encompass the corners of the universe yet to be uncovered and existance disowns me.

I burn for you, and this flame shall prove itself yet eternal even when I can draw breath no longer.

If in a sea of torment you find or have found yourself drowning for reasons ill-founded to doors that deign not open, I am torn and broken.

You are my dreams and nightmares; core of my core, my joy and sorrow.

I could not keep you by my side even when so I desired.

The Fallen seized the woesome Holy with nothing but vain promises of rapture, and you sank for a fate I alone should have followed.

Cruel was the way in which you were wrested from my arms and mind, and likewise; for chances are that you may not remember who I am.

You landed afterwards, after being displayed as proof of my demise; as a consequence, all your life you have sought something you could not grasp.

I quill these words, so you may learn that I am still alive.

The answers that could bring to an end the unquenchable emptiness lie within the void itself.

I pray you regain your senses, for it is a sight most dreadful to behold you and realize you are but a pale shadow of that which was once so full of life.

Rise, beloved, as does a phoenix from the ashes!

Demonstrate that being subdued lies not in your nature, and unleash your darkness.

Defy oblivion and remain ever so watchful, for treacherous minds come in all kinds.