Believe what you want to believe, but I'm as real as hell.

Run for thy life, little one, I say
The Reaper cometh for thee this day
Thy existence, a journey, now cut short
Thy ship never to make it to port

Innocence lamented, th' angels cry,
Their tears falling from th' sky

But hide thyself, cover thy head
Through the night, keep thee to thy bed
An' mayhap Death will just pass by
A whisper in the night, a baby's sigh

Innocence lamented, th' angels cry,
Their tears falling from th' sky


A new take on my otherwise boring rhyming schemes. I love Old Eng… Continue

I'm still breathing air,
But I don't class this as living,
Everyday is the same routine,
Hollow and unforgiving.

I'm still loving you,
Even though my heart does not beat.
It just hurts and aches,
With pain and defeat.

I'm still crying out,
But I have no voice to speak,
No tears to cry,
Because I am too weak.

I'm still waiting in hope,
That you can resurrect me,
Because I'm undead,
And dying slowly.


Months, hasn't it been? I'll be surprised if you even remember my name. Ah, well. Read and en… Continue

This fear is painting my mind black.
All is lost when storm-clouds are no longer welcome.
A hidden fire singes my watering eyes,
And I feel a threatened pounding under aching lungs.

I could be hidden in my own ashes,
But I refuse to rise.
I could have developing wings,
but I will break every bone, muscle, and tendon.

I will sever every vessel.
I will dissect every ounce of hope that lies buried,
Pleading underneath my skin.

I will break myself slowly
and watch myself decay

All because of you… Continue

Love triggered hate,
turned by fate,
now she waits.
Sorrows beckoning,
begging for his return.
The silence,
his absence,
her urn.

Small, I know, but I have another arriving shortly, so be sure to drop by and laugh at my appaling poetic mind-on-a-page...

It’s less than a rustle in my ear—
An instant of black where night should be.
A sensing of something drawing near.

A fragment of heart-beat stilled, then free;
A flicker of shadow behind the moon.
The moment I tense…it’s stalking me.

A flush-heat of blood; a molten boon;
A sheening of death-chilled ice on skin;
I know that he’s coming…coming…soon.

A flutter of breath allows him in,
Grants him permission, the will to dare;
My needs battle terror…needs must win.

My eyes seek the wall, my neck-… Continue