A soft sprinkle of madness, Hunter's moon, a lover's gun. A lifetime pent in sadness, Over things you've never done. A flavorless ambition, (Just a trifle... not too much); Coming to its fruition In form of a lifetime crutch.
You weigh the thises and thats, Lick your fingers, breathe the smell; As the aroma lingers Down the corridors of hell. Could be infatuation, Might just be a subtle crave. But you'll find no satiation Feasting this side of the grave.
I traipse the hall, fingers trace wall Behind my booted tread. Where shadows morn the day unborn, Hold silence in its stead. Where voices, sere, still linger here, Echoes from a time past… Of laughter lost, and the true cost Of things to darkness cast.
The heart still beats, if incomplete. A murmur mocks the pace. My march towards Death, I count each breath One closer to his face, Who passes by sharing not why The withholding of touch. Bids me move on, through life withdrawn, Already dead as such.
A thousand miles of darkness, Beating a dead man's drum. Every step mired in starkness Toward this thing that I've become. It's the wiles of devotion Holding me this bitter mile... For out there lies my ocean, I've just got to make her smile.
I feel it in the wind now, The moist salt of her breath. As I come to the landfall That could only end in death. I spread my alabaster wings, (Stone statue set to fly), A strange moment while Silence sings "Hello" through a goodbye.
Trembling forth, as strange currents flow, I walk the segregated row— Turn eyes upon that sainted stone Which sets before me like a throne. A face etched in marble, so real, Its fleshly form I long to feel; But words that singe the soul beneath Remind me of all men bequeath.
A funeral procession passes by, Unseen by naked, mortal eye. Spirits gathered unto this place To view their newest, lifeless face. And as the morning's dew drips past This speck in time not meant to last, Mournful cries, touching not live ears, ...
Forth from shadow, a warmth in snow On ageless poet tread; Dream lost to time, curse put to rhyme Every day in his head. Her sweetness lost ever his cost, He's walked here ever since. A hollow moan cloaked 'forrest's groan, Ever her fallen prince.
She wails by night, the grim delight Of powers none should preach. Locked in her tower, hour by hour, Ever out of his reach. She once sang by, with softest sigh, The window as he passed. Now silence cries for all that dies Tallied to sins amassed.
Wispy shadows, they prey on me— Come to me in the night. Ethereal, it's sleep they steal In the absence of light. Under the door, across the floor, Taking form next the bed... Like smoke tendrils, they work their wills Slowly into my head(s).
It's female supremacy, I know what I am fighting. Yet fail to clutch just how that touch Comes to me so inviting. Hot breath on neck, I know what's next, And hear each voice claim, "Mine!" All while a shrill quiver of chill Trickles slow down the spine.