that chestnut gaze,

stains my dewed soul,

painting my sleep

like a breathed daydream,

whose whisper

i have yet to steal.

i made a canvas

in the sunlit springs.

a sinner vowed to the vision,

praying to meet a promise,

only to be baptized

by a broken plea.

my bleeding red

is warmed.

yet,

is that fragile petal

meant for me?

bewitched

by her lustrous realm,

my own defeated eyes

quiver,

like a wraith at dawn

softened into morning mist.

have i stolen

your auroral hue,

jewelled as a homeland's orb

lost in a ribbon of browns?

bearing pearl-white fortresses,

crowned with sacred halos,

shading fountains

of weeping wildflowers,

how shall my knees

not give way

before majesty,

when those lashes,

adorned

with twilight veils,

lower themselves

as if to flood

my reflection,

hostage

in that solar glint.

in pure wonder,

my eyes search

the rich glass haven

for yours,

chasing a glance

from a stranger,

what is your name?

( The Muse)

behold

as icarus

hymns my scars.

gazing

through wraiths,

i avowed myself

some nightmare.

a lone cigarette

intruded

as my muse.

thief

reaping my pitiful

facade,

the mirror

enshrines

my dreaming rot.

chanting grief,

robbed

from that passing gleam,

a fallen clay

singed

by the pyre.

sighing

while embers rain

transcending the illusion

of salvation.

hourly

withering,

a residual bloom

beguiled by whispers,

frozen,

lost

in the ink

wounding

the page

like gasping breath

of wingless

delusion.

O mother.

could she not heed

his wretched shadow

to the murder

cawing

at her very door?

he doubted

ever being born,

merely a fiend

of her sacred womb

offering a waking tomb

to a dead soul.

forsaken by meaning,

rot reeked,

harrowingly.

may the grave

grant mercy,

the cruel scarlet skies

envy.

a forgotten funeral

in which the living

banished

among the unbreathing,

guilty of nothing

save that stubborn act,

of still

drawing breath.

How does one

cherish a meteor,

cursed since birth

to dissolve into ash

against the sky,

exiled from

tasting the earth?

She watched the darkness

fall behind her eyelids,

a fading witness

to her own eclipse,

as if the thought itself

were shards of a fallen star

scraping a raw burn.

For truly,

the celestial realms

fall from grace,

even stars must atomize

into stardust

for adoring so combustibly.

She lowered her constellation

to ignite a dying spark,

when her devotion belonged

to the Sun

that authored her light.

Stripped of her radiance,

she bleeds nebula,

wondering if the Creator

will pull back His dawn.

There dwells

a grim,

unuttered torment

in finding oneself

chained

to this suffocating

impermenance

of mortal existence,

fraying

along the brinks

of collective

consciousness

as a phantom

that haunts

the living,

solely because

the soul

had long since

surrendered

before the blackest

melancholy

of the grave

clinging

to the black,

preordained

certainty,

that silence

had already

buried it

ghastly

in the night.

when a shadow

smothers your light,

weep my grief

to feed the embers.

with a pulse

so hopelessly enslaved,

i welcome this

exquisite agony,

wasting mortal breath

to tend that dying flame.

your incandescent whispers

pierce a universe

frozen in bleak decay.

should silence

steal your luster,

i shall slip to meet

the gathering gloom,

marrying my smoke

to cloak your fleeting ash

as eternity bleeds,

till the wind forgets

whose flame it sought

to blow out.

His consciousness

amounted to nothing

but a withered absurdity,

a damnation

that served as a judgement,

sentencing him

to every sin

he, in his worthlessness,

had committed,

while delivering him

into the grip

of his own memory.

He consumed

his very being

in the dark,

whereas the rest

of the world slept,

mocking such

wretched insignificance.

For what soul

could possibly sleep

when an inherent

executioner

denied him rest?

Arresting his will

amidst the madness

born of past

transgressions.

under the gentle spring rain,

skin me alive.

let the blooming buds

linger in quiet gaze,

watching my blood blush

in the rain.

let the rain-kissed petals

learn colour

breathed through me.

my soul wasn't all winter

beneath the false-peace

moonlight.

let this shape release itself

in devastating grace,

abandon my face,

the last fragment

those eyes will come to know.

let them see

I wasn't woven

from peace.

I nursed a

fractured bone.

let the air ease

this cursed skin

they named

mine.