Another for the Pile

I saw my death, through the eyes of a living corpse.

Thrown like trash, among a mass of nameless husks.

None left breathing

Soul trapped

Heart not beating.

Wake up,

Forgot,

Live life,

And wait,

To die another time.

The Life, Before Last

Standing by a lonely grave

Vibrant flowers,

words engraved:

“Forget about me. Let me die from your mind. Kill me, in memory. Live your life, no need to cry. We’ll meet again, in due time.”

Buried by a lonely grave

No more flowers,

words engraved.

“I lived my life as you asked, and cherished each and every day. But now my time has come and passed. All that’s left is to fall for you just like the life, before last.”

Fire Flies

Fire flies infest my mind

They light the thoughts I wish to hide

They gift to me sleepless dreams.

worried cries,

restless fears,

and terror tears.

Tonight might bring the end of me.

And just like that,

the fire files start to die

one by one,they dim to night

one by one, they lose their light

it isn’t long

before I miss it,

The plague of fire flies inside my mind.

There’s a Word for it

I’ve almost forgotten how it feels

How it pulls at the back of my mind, wordless...

An endless echo in a vast open space,

Or the cold touch of a shadow.

its the unending seams of perpetual existence,

fueled by the threat of inexistence.

An aching, knowing persistence.

The desperate need to come up for air,

or the desire to quench a relentless thirst.

To run for dear life, despite Death waiting at the finish line.

I remember now: it’s instinct.

This Prison of Me

These poems are a cage

for my demons I’ve locked away

I give them chains, in the shape of words

trapped here and put on display.

Here comes another Angel, dropping off a wicked devil

for me to chain away.

They’re my fuel and the fire,

the more I claim,

the more I wish I’d burn away.

Wicked Days

These are the words I wish to set the world ablaze:

When the demon is at the helm.

There’s a chemical block,

and emotional lock,

We’ll spill red on this world of gray.

A taste of pain.

We’ll drink of blood.

Just to quench this mouth of clay.

Our Savior’s blood.

Thy Holy Grace.

Save me,

from such wicked days.

 Sea

I dreamt of a Priest

Surrounded by a roaring sea

Waves crashed at his feet

Lost children, they lived inside

And Painted pictures of their dreams

The colors burnt

Their hearts did too

They took me in

So I’d paint

Something new