t h e { l i g h t e s t } t o u c h { w i l l } b r e a k { t h e } g l a s s

Here are my bones, left bare and decayed for those who really see.

Naught am I but an empty shadow, a wraith under the moonlight.
My whispers of poetry and suffering drift upon the autumn leaves,
My requiem flows upon the zephyr in the darkness,
My eyes are blind with ash and frost, my heart is a cold, pale sun.

Always I am searching,
Searching for some impossible dream,
Some fragile shards of serenity
To hold until I bleed.
My frigid burning is one of desperation, desire,
hopelessness, loneliness.
Lost have I become in this labyrinth
of darkest elegance and bittersweet catalepsy,
This heresy of spider webs and dying love
I weave for myself.
The black vines of my heart entwine around my fingers,
And I am both cursed and blessed
By the tranquility uncoiled within this twilight.
I watch my reality become eclipsed by one truth, one purest revelation
Borne from my intuition;
The realisation that art and beauty are the only deities in this life,
The only divinities worth ritual and sacrifice.
For naught shall heal the heart
Nor cleanse the blade of crimson sin
As exquisitely as the delicate balance,
The intricate duality of art;
Creation blooms in the womb of destruction.

The only Divine Creator is perception,
The only eternity is art,
The only true Martyr is the soul,
The only Virgin whore is passion,
The only redemption is damnation.

Through a forest of black delirium
In slow motion, I desperately run
From the silver wolves who
In their exquisite wildness
Wish to free me;
I run for fear of enslavement to reality,
The dreary prison that would surround me
Should I forget what pain has brought me.
Liberation would mean opening my eyes to close them,
When all this time I have closed my eyes to open them,
Succumbed to cataleptic daydreams and chimera
To follow where my heart lies.
Should I quench my thirst for tranquility
From that poison well,
I would forget what it means
To stand on this diamond shore
And watch a pale sun break the horizon.
Without darkness, I could see no light,
Without desolation I would not know love.

Spiritual Lycanthrope
Emotional Catalept,
Damaged and Decayed,
Jaded and Staid.

Here are my bones, left bare and decayed for those who really see.

{ O f M i r r o r s a n d F r o s t }

{still under [de]construction}

. . . s o l v e e t c o a g u l a . . .

t h e   b l a s p h e m i e s   h e r e   h a v e   b e e n   o b s c u r e d

u n t i l   t h e   t i m e   t h a t   t h e y   a r e   p u r i f i e d

a n d   r e f l e c t   m o r e   p e r f e c t l y

t h e   d i v i n e   w i t h i n ;   t h e   t r u t h   o f   m y   l o o k i n g   g l a s s .

s i n s   a n d   h e r e s i e s ,   r a i n   a n d   s o o t .

h a n g i n g   f r o m   t h e   e a v e s

o f   s u c h   a   w i t h e r e d   g a l l o w s   t r e e ,

m a t c h s t i c k s   a t   m y   f e e t ,   b u r n i n g   s o   s l o w l y .

" i n   t h i s   m o m e n t ,   i   a m   i n f i n i t e . "

I   a m   A r a c h n e ,

I   a m   t h e   w e a v i n g   o n e .

I   a m   I c a r u s ,

T h e   f a l l e n   o n e .

t h e g a t e s