A Romance with the Grave
My bride, she turned so dark. It is all I ever see. I have taken upon myself to dream, This dream of dirt and rain. Is it such a crime to fall in love with the grave? The police think so. My bride, she died, and in the ground she lays. I miss her most when the sky is grey and rain falls like glass shards. I remember the mud. I remember the puddles. I remember worms and tree roots, insects and bugs. I visited her sometimes; her eyes were hollow, Her fingernails brown and jagged like tree bark, Her skin torn as though it were made of denim, Her face featureless it might as well have been made of clay. I kissed her lips, her eyes, her cheeks. I held her hand in mine while the crows cawed from the tree limbs. Does it matter that I'm sorry? Does it matter that I love her still? Her skin is grey now; it is ripping, also, It reminds me of the upholstery on our old sofa. I know one day everything of her will be gone, I saw a cockroach skitter out of her left eye socket, Perhaps what I did to her was wrong.
Hands in the Dark
The skeletal hands are shrouded in dark The shadows play music on an eidolon harp I step forward yet I always forget That I’m bound in chains from my ancient debt This pig-sty in my mind cannot be cleaned I cross the dark into the other side My morality tainted and thus unredeemed My fear is with me even though I’ve tried To lay my end upon the end The sun goes down, the night descends The flame only burns upon the touch Ignore the light and accept the dark The hands return and pull me down They whisper: 'It's not so bad, is it now?'
A step out of rhyme, in this prism of time I blame it on degeneracy Faded stars above a world of latency And it takes a form to ignore the celestial worm Starfall turns deep in rivers of reflection But it's sickening How the the lights are tumors that writhe and squirm Like bone ash igniting a phosphorous glow, I'm blinded Darkness never seemed so warm to me A divide of lightning flashing forcefully Morning hours strictly grey and I’m reminded Crooked earth and crooked dreams Stay this side of the glass The cosmic horrors are picking at the seams They are there, creatures rising, from the gaseous morass Enigmatic puzzles are distractions I see the ground inside the sky I witness the distance expand and fall, my body collapse and spin Standing tall and motionless inside the stellar wind I'm out of time in this prism of grime I fell into degeneracy Dead stars between a world of vagrancy