Blue is death
Medically speaking
Your lips showing a hue
Resembling just that kind of blue
I could let go, releasing my grip apparent
Your neck strength weakening as continue
My strangling
It is said by some that there are rules of engagement present in all form of combat & love / subsequent to that misconception I find a blank page spreading before my very eyes / there is a tub of ink in the corner and an unsigned check wallowing behind the curtains drawn ahalf / the future is somewhere out there waiting for the sleeping beauty that I am not / I am not her in truth but I once planned our wedding / like I once walked the halls of fortunes where now only scars are resting / a reminder of the torture / of my involvement in a life less ordinary / in truth / a life less than / a life less / a life / a … / … / a dotted remainder of what could have been / had I only understood the rules of the game
I should in light of our previous encounters act upon your solid & frank advice / to avoid her like the plague you say her being solely and firmly consists of / that morning light that greets me steadily behind the folding window blinds / each morning she appears to me in dreams and I find myself once more awake / her touch is poison to those exposed / bloodrayne / or so the story goes
You approach me,
wearing nothing but a tank top,
a grayish piece of cover-naught,
the kind of slutty outfit you know
will turn me on
//
You approach me,
carrying the sharpened knives,
they glisten in the candle light,
making my heart pound faster,
my chains could not be tighter
//
You approach me,
with the seductive smile of an
assassin, unaware of my awareness,
& my reluctance to the dying
process
//
You approach me,
in heels of steel,
excessive streaks of black
circling your tear filled
eyes
//
You approach me,
and I beg for your understanding,
for your mercy, knowing all to well,
I had this coming, this was all
On me
//
You approach me,
wearing nothing but a tank top,
Pouring the candle wax indifferently
Carving your name into my loins
& with a lustless moan I surrender
I picture myself in a grand old mansion,
Somewhere in the countryside, somewhere
Not far from everything convenient
.
I picture myself alone, and as I stand there
Leniently abiding your rules I tap my foot,
Wondering if you might attend my show
.
I picture myself as someone capable of
Loving, yet knowing that such life is wasted,
Berated the words I express to you daily
.
I picture myself in black and white,
Black as night,
White as fright
.
I picture myself as the knight in armour,
Sooted black,
From hell’s fiery abyss inescapable
.
I picture myself as Snow White,
Snorting from a rundown pack of four,
Never recalling what went on before
.
I picture myself a photograph discovered,
In the the burnt down castle, at the
End of the country lane, in the countryside
I once called mine
& so it begun: with a tender kiss from the
Angel of Verdun. As we embraced, our
Lonely childhoods found a common
Ground. Once more we became; we were
Born again in the shadows of their faith.
Not longing for a divine outcome, merely
Wanting to repent & to find solace we set
Out to conquer the world like the children
We were. They sang our prayers as we
Progressed across the worlds torched by
Their words, by their hunger for more; their
Hunger for all was all we saw: the children
Of the future kind left to gnaw on the barren
Bones of the old garde. How brightly this
Singular world is burning, fuelling their
desires; never stopping, never turning. We
Once kissed at the fires of Verdun, now
Hell awaits us, our legacy in ruins
we were intriguingly close once upon a lifetime ago / within touching distance some would still argue / croocked fingers tracing the thin air / the dried up lips & abandoned mines of otherness / the droughts from tears abandoned between shallow acres of grass; haymaking / like the rabbits we never were / killed by our innocence / our shrink-wrapped empowerment / a battery gone flat