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