Modern Magic: A poem

Hot days, beating down,
burning my eyes,
sun is getting me down.

Dark nights, gonna clown,
burn in hand,
blood moon makes me frown.

I need a ray, not gonna lie,
need to make my day,
winter's come and I got the bye.

Turn two right? I'm gonna die,
Turn two kill hand,
infect killed me with just one guy.

How I feel currently

Light permission, escaping me
Life is like a filigree
Contained and lost in its maze
decoration for death's gaze

The end game coming through and thru
nite time leading, like a shrew
in the darkness the rodent hides
and bites and bides its time and lies

shit the herald screams in glee
as I realize I won't be free
in time to enjoy the darkness approach
but nevermind, life has yet to -

Blame it on the Gaze - Poem

Looking.

Eyes staring, consuming, obsessing over shape. Imagining functions.

Perversion. Reluctance. Desire.

Touching.

Caressing. Fondling. Groping. Hurting.

Rejection. Fear. Denial.

Hatred.

Misogyny.

Looking.

God is Dead, a poem

Please take me away from here,
Jesus, my flesh crawls in such ways,
that darkness or light, my vision fades,
and with open eyes I stare at nothing.

The Bible was wrong, in so many ways,
but your truth echoes before me,
like a clanging gong, my eardrums burst.

As knowledge and light fades,
I cry until the dawn of a new day.

Because in the end, your death meant nothing.

In the darkness of a December Night

Tinted Glass, reflects before me, like a stale impassive drummer, idly sitting there in eternal slumber, never beating, never breathing.

Winds outside howl and wail, in the darkness, I sit and wait. Never before has the anger of Winter made me feel so old.

Anger from the dark Abyss, the dark Abyss of Carionca. From the grave, where the Witch still haunts me, from the past, that mocks me still, I feel this dark embroiling slumber of the glass before me.

In the dark eyes of the glass before me, tinted glass, that makes me wonder, where I'm from and where I go.

Glancing down at my mobile, at the picture of beauty dear, I sit in darkness and I ponder, why am I even still sitting here?

Dark the path that lies before me, dark the path from whence I came. Shadows rip and torn asunder, by the glowing of the frame. Frame from which in holy light, shines, the image of pure delight.

Raising high above my head, the guiding light I take to bed, I take three steps around the glass, and walk outside into the night. No longer do I fear the future, no longer does my fear hold me, and with courage from within, I submit, my plans for her to see.