Dependence is the Devils Nightgown

The satin sheets are set out,
sewn with human tears,
draperies and strung heavy,
struck with human fear.
Oh to be mortal,
of mice and men and glee,
to understand the evil lurkings
of immortality.
The blessed blood is churning,
into pots of vicious rage,
making the sweetest of the love
taste savage of bitter hate.
Clinging to the bedposts
are rails of human heart,
shoved up against the staples
of the isolation art.
So come my beasts and minions,
to set the work aglow,
with mighty passion engulfed
by the hate we've come to know.
Let people run in panic,
scream for those held dear,
because caring has gone to the dogs,
just as everyone has feared.

Ah, Sweet Ambrosia.

chills run along my neck,
a certain euphoria breaks out,
and now i'm gone,
decaying to a world i have yet known.
whether i run or i stay,
i have tasted the ambrosia,
an addiction that feels so sweet,
and i'm stuck.
my gaze turns down,
to the ground where i glide,
and i'm down for the count.
my heart pounds in my chest,
and i feel like i'm flying,
up to a world that feeds me,
giving into my inner-most desires,
fueled by my most certain fears.

so this is love.
so this is love?

the demon pass

Believe me when I say this walk is lonely,
the road is dark and night is cold,
my eyesight is not what it used to be,
and I have not listened to what the trees told.
My pain is in my footsteps,
where below the earth cries out,
the leaves fall off the branches,
and sway with shrills and shouts.
Torment the lone wanderer,
with ghosts of ghoulish pasts,
and the night grows darker yonder,
below the demon pass.

untitled

i fell in love,
and my heart was then trapped,
and from all of the pressure,
my soul was just snapped.
my spine went to jelly,
and then vanished at all,
and i lost the ability to stand tall.
sometimes i think love did me wrong,
losing myself and feeling like i was gone,
but then i see that i have to break,
to set myself free all along.

welcome to the endless rose (8th grade)

Forever blooming her tales of misery,
spinning her mystic fortune,
creating hypnotic,
melodic,
artistic death.
She guides to the grave,
with but a single glance,
dazzling and gleaming,
magnificant in the night.
Her rhyme is soothing,
pulling consiousness under,
falling to the ground,
like the claps of thunder.
The waves upon the shore,
bare no resemblance,
only empty to the core.
the moon sings her lonely tune,
knowing that she'll be forgotten soon,
but tonight she gets her justice
as the wind cries,
"Welcome to the endless rose".

history in the night

The moon is shining,
the night is coming in,
the stars are falling from above,
the lights are growing dim,
trees sway to the rhythmic wind,
and twining souls are giving in.
The wood is old and the air is thick,
our hearts are pounding,
the silent beat gives a kick.
Tonight's a night for history,
for memories to seep through the air,
so that old dances can be remembered,
but we are the only ones aware.

for those who dont know my insanity...

Misery. It's the only way to describe what I've become. Through the lies-- the burning, stinging, gut-wrenching, white lies that have spun my thread of existance. It is not fair to say this monster came solely from me, but was born of deceit. Of the dark and bitter venom of lies. This monster came from evil. Violent, reaching out to hurt any, wishing for pain upon all. There is so much hate filling the heart, turning the once-pure heart to a rich, black stone. A knife through the throat would manage a victory, but instead the daggers head to the back and the heart. Those are the ever-popular pain bearing targets. This monster is evil and yet cannot be vanquished, because my inner soul is breathing through its mischevious acts.

It's easy to blaim this battle on the boy, say he scattered the pieces across the floor. But that would be another of my all too common lies. Yes he helped release these demons, ones that had been locked up for centuries digging at flesh and begging to take natural forms. But the boy is not to blame, because in his twisted way he tried to save me once. This taste of salvation overwhelmed my inner soul, and it began dying for more. And in the search for light somehow the demons were released again into the safety of darkness. Their fangs are glorious, beaming the rays of sanity swiftly away. With their wings they take flight, floating to daydreams, not just staying in the night.

So twisted, many pieces of twine folding over and over in themselves, until it is just one rope. The boy pulled a signle string, and life began to unravel. Could he not see my poison? Not tell I was unwell? I tried to tell of the thoughts, of my demons, which I claimed possesion of. He is nothing but a thief. A stealer of twine and love and pain. But there is so much more to take. Someday I will find my match, to set my rope on fire, and burn the demons in my found light.