Six feet under flesh

Dressed in a crown of thorn and fake,

swings a lone heart in its wake,

and beats but out, and never in. 

Too falls the mirror from its frame,

asks for answers, for my name,

but never sole has truth once been. 

What's left to do comes slowly clear,

I bury all that I held dear;

today my fate shall finally rest.

So take I all that they once gave,

choke it down to empty grave,

six feet 'neath flesh inside my chest.

Bitter King

He was a bitter king, they said,
and bitter, true, he ruled.
None, save one, could have him fooled -
The demon in his head.

His lands then withered far apart,
and, too, so did his mind.
Soon left was no one dear or kind;
just barrens, and a plaque at heart.

His crown stretched big to blind the eyes,
this gilded throne broke coal instead,
He trusted no word, save his lies.

The stitch of soul was bare of thread;
This kingdom came, so its demise.
Was I a bitter king; I fret.

Heartbeat

What then is hope, my truest friends;
a prayer prayed, or means to ends?
Or too desire in light guise -
A crack malicious in her lens?
 For that, I grew too old, too wise.

And left is nothing but regret,
or shame and lust when wishes met.
When all, that will, has come to pass,
keep we neglecting to forget;
for nothing fills this half-drunk glass.

A dream I dreamt, but half awake
and half recalled my faith at stake.
Longed for depth and found me thin -
there is no hope for hoping's sake.
I still beat out, but no more in.

Reality, as I've come to see it, is not ever to be enjoyed, for real and reality are not often the same thing, but simply is it to be assumed.

Solstice

Where, friend, is your solstice now?
The point of no return long past;
are we still waiting winter out,
with not one longer day to last?

I feel dark air runs from old wounds,
from callus on the heels of wars.
My reason died with theirs alike;
cursed by time, and crossed by stars.

Don’t pray for one made in my kind,
but scatter all my legends dry.
For good’s sake, for what it’s worth
there’s still no meaning in this cry.

Go out then, seek the truth held dear,
but nevermore restrain my fate.
O shall I freeze my time and heart,
to wait out winter in bless’d hate.

Overture

Angelic, blessed creature’s soul
it’s midnight now, and calm the storm
let passion break from bounds and form
for She then claimed my heart as toll

untied, unfold, the beast of things
Celestial, so deep and pure,
Her eyes promised me overture
in symphonies of red heart strings

We’re winding all o’clocks forth pleasure
then not the seizures of our past,
but a future’s shadow newly cast,
is today’s most righteous measure.

Star-crossed

All bridges were crumbling that day,

too much did they bear of their sway;

just ashes remain of their prime.

Say they, yes, all wounds heal in time.

And if those words too will betray?

Which boundary will they cross tonight,

what hides behind pride in plain sight?

Like glass shards the dreams spread before;

who dares still to tread them once more,

to bleed full of bliss and of blight?

And iron cloaks clouding the mind;

from here is no goal nor a find.

Her eyes are star-crossed, so are mine,

and tomorrow can not realign,

in any shape, nor form, not kind.