Least Read Gothic Poems

Bathing foster waters  
multi petalled vines entwined  
my torn skin would ache  
a crown of thorns  
lay opened  
in mosaics    
   
my strained ear would hear  
light birds    
my hands became  
five petalled  
   
fragranced heart  
drying and pressing    
flowers I burned  
reading  
   
tarot  
tundra oracle  
opens in strength  
clothed

Magician
empress and fool
all ardently adorned  
   
o rippled rose  
night my knight   ...

Sittin here, at mine window at night,
by my fridge, drinkin beers in the cold day of it,
By my window, alone once again,
Tryin to figure out which one o us is sane, or insane,
Darlin don’t you know that men sometimes need time, on our own,
When there is no one left for you to blame, can you truly love me,

Turn you music on me
Spread your wings high o’er me
Hero’s often fade,
In the minds eye, front news,
With revelations of all that’s good in man,

Cosmic Queries come out strong,
In a place that does not belong, ...

3:33AM
Pain hits hard enough to wake me up
~again… damn it… again~
prayin to empty bottles of pills
Ignite the soothing away of pain
please, refill… please
hands shakin & can hardly see
cant make it to phone, legs achin so bad,
been so busy perfecting hatred an resentment lately
that forgot to practice smiling
an bein grateful for what already got
though at the moment
cant seem to remember anything to be grateful for
3:33am
what the fuk is so special about 3:33
`~,,~`
Layin in bed nude for days...

But sin is an effort to gain the ecstasy and the
 knowledge that pertain alone to angels and in
 making this effort man becomes a demon.” (Arthur Machen, 1904)
 
Poor thing, Clara, she was the perfect child.
The old bathroom is stripped down to the bone,
The prettiest skirts, and her little scraped-up knees,
only broken tiles and cobwebs remaining.
 
AND her infectious smile. Oh, what a shame.
The yellow stain where an imported
The losses we suffer in times like these.
marble vanity probably used to be.
 
She...