His Words

But no god adorned,
So few but kindred fair,

Alas my honest word is not,
Then cast me aside, alas;

Who could not for love help,
For prey is near, I am whole,

Lest I may be, yet safe bestowed,
Is for not so safe, for lack is born;

Ere born mine earnest hope begone,
But do no harm as more gone ye seek,

I tremble with every step I walk,
So tremble with every step you pass.

Could Fenrir not feel mercy for few?
Though He lives in me, I can give,

Alas mine art is small I cannot paint,
Though mine is large, but detail preferred,

So destroy me now, my soul is little to you,
Hence I shall imbue with mine, for more, to more,

But no strings attached I am slowly fraught,
Shall pluck the strings with claws of mine to play,

With every tug I am but arms and legs ye keep ye move,
For every tug of mine are but inches grown,

Alas my life is utter spent in jest and utter few,
Worry not for He is there but can only give,

Lest I am far from you, but could not sleep,
Sleep now, for He cannot afford at loss in you,

Ere given mine heart is but faint and ill to take,
If’t were shall I not cure the poison to make it so?

No, you cannot. For I am already dead, who cares!
Though I am here, but I cannot help you there,

Cold but sound, as I walk, my heart falls through snow,
Though forgiven, but I cannot give you what you want,

I understand. So let me weep and I shall pass you by,
Though I cannot, for even a boy can weep and lonely pass,

This servant of darkness calls for no dark, no kindred mine,
This servant of darkness calls you near, but cannot find,

Though a wrench in my heart but ill kept I shall bleed,
Bleed again for I shall be more tender in sight of woe,

So help me suffer and suffer more as frail as I become,
So move me here and I shall sign thy life to mine,

Though left in dark I see hopes shattered with utter dread,
But pay heed now for life of thine is but thin as utter thread.

Our Light of Woe

There, is light but none and he,
He, but is not the light I knew,

These dims that call me from far,
Is far from him as light never was,

Though mine heart is ill and conjured,
Though conjured is little said but mourn,

Ere morn, my morn is the evening hollow,
Is God more the light and dark too still?

Alas, of the night my light is utter spent,
Is ill before and my sight is hinder lent,

Free are the chains to chain him in time,
In time he shall enter the crossroads lone, Read More

Further yet

Then it was the confusion that made more,
In still talk the verbal scum brought bore,
Little was to be said but profane words,
And soon in the night were broken worlds,
Ere come was she in banshee took to rise,
Whose only heart could not amount in size,
As ice she littered words over warm heart,
So much not even cupid could throw the dart,
With tears mounting away with clogged nose,
Is no sight more poorly her soul but froze?
To cling on hope for words alone to say,
And when her heart is squeezed she’ll pray,
For every blood poured is her terror in wait,
At the touch of fate she is but merely bait, Read More

In the stars, but no love

Though this much I ask but bitter tell:
Is not so fine, is not so,

But I am bitter but utter sweet,
Ere poison is mine the taste so far,

My tongue swims through drink and brew,
But mine eyes regressed too far,

Alas I am but simple yet so quiet,
Hears you the stars so loud and unspoken?

And the galaxy stirs in silence asleep,
Never asleep, as tender hearts grow amidst,

My sleep is deigned for hearts divine,
Alas my love can I not offer so little?

So beautiful, yet I have none to give,
Beauty does not age when eyes meet,

But I am swimming through fate’s despair,
To swim is not to seek the island of virtue,

Touches me through a heart long forgotten,
Though is forgotten but is not unkempt,

The stars are bright this evening,
Sing for my brightening star, my dear,

If you’re there, then sing for mine,
Alas, I am not there how far away,

Then I shall breathe the sun for air,
But my darkness wept is little kept,

Alas, there’s no light in me now,
Alas, I am but not light to be given.

G.H.O.S.T.

But while she walks round no life,
Is all but life in me to fight,
Stirs in dark, hides through light,
A ling’ring spirit ere close was nigh,
Dare myself a walk in ways I ne knew,
As a shadow close casts blood to brew,
Then, a quiet walk then was utter strife.

Within the clutches my nails soon broke,
Whose skin so pale, mine almost torn,
Whose watch even pierced sun at dawn,
Alas, no light would enter but here,
Last, my seconds deign the hours gone,
Is soon but fought my guilt is done,
For even silent whispers can me choke.

With every pace I forward was she turned,
With every breath my heart strung hers,
By light I would have known her first,
At that time she called to me a saviour,
But my lady, as said I am no better saint,
Here I am walking the slowest dare to faint,
For to close mine eyes is fate too burned. Read More

2D World

Rabbits sing through the lakes,
The signs are clear but none awake,
There’s a girl who’s still slamming,
My heart is wooden to that she damns,
Lock me in a room with god to judge,
But only I can stoop to nudge,
She wants roses to eat, thorns to scar,
She wants a knife to bleed, one too far,
Through a maze of veins ere they close,
She’ll mix a cup in time for daily dose, Read More