Dark Gothic Poetry ~ Razor Wound Family

Familial bond blood does not make.
Red rust water thins as they take, take, take.

Solace of soul. Heart of their control.
Raping, ravaging. Minds of Children.

Chosen truth undeniable.
Being true you within.

Strangulation with blood ties.
Lie of familiarity.

Hearts, Souls, Minds, Friendship.

Spirit lays deep in razor wound family.
Trickling of truth produces kinship.

Love Poetry ~ Opaque Disguises

Hidden behind brilliant worlds.
Brought my attention.
Visions of fear: illusions abound

Unsure what may transpire.
Dreams falling through lifted higher?

Tonal inflections,
Give serious infection,
Breaking way emotion.

Trembling. Unbelieving.

Doubting Selves…

Clock dance pirouette
Miniature hours glide away.

Bile seeping out.
Smiles creeping in.

Treasures believed long shut.
Emotion’s caress stoking sensual cravings.

First meeting, end draws near.

So, begins aches ravaging, yet again.
Pain’s shrill fire.

Ecstasy so gentle yet so brutal.

Mind’s cry defenses soon buckle.
Cannot defend release from struggle.
Unbelieving sighs show through.

A guise both use to ease moment’s parting.

Opaque disguises,
How is we see life,
behind dead eyes?

Unable to continue; charade of control,

Taking breath.
Wanted anger.
Caught off guard.

Grasp encapsulating world…
Too much so/so.

Days to come?
Just dream or premonitions.

Love Invades…
Enraptures…
Unrelenting.

Heartbeat reminds every moment.

We might just be…

Captured.

Love Poetry ~ Time to End

No getting over.

In a minute. An hour. A lifetime?
Never!
Part of my essence; you became.

No other callers ever be an answer.

To emptiness.
I feel.
Without you.

It may have been: time to end.

Still.
Logic makes death.
No. Less. Painful.

Life’s cruel river. Denying love.

Breath of life.

Still… as I said last time.
I will always love you.
With shadow or doubt.
Embedded in dying breath.

You will always be.
I pray.
Happy.

Poetry ~ The Valley of Silence

Walking the valley of silence…

I, feel, the weight of soliloquy.

Eyes beg for shards of this tattered soul.
I, the beggar: beaten, broken, and blistered.

Eyes longing for abusement…

 

Laughing at my trust…

Nothing is real.

Walking down the mountain.
Wind whistle remedy for pain.

 

Never mind. Never mine…

Sadness falls, walking from the valley…

I lied too myself again.

Believing there would be…

Hope and understanding.

Still, I push on…