I wasn’t prepared
for what you took away
and how empty I would be
when what was left
was only what remained
of colliding and shattered dreams;
there is no salvation
in a greyclad sky
that’s hanging by a thread
threatening to reveal
a soul plagued by
a thousand sins in
a heart left hollow
by its own betrayal,
given over so willingly
to this darkness.

Of Rage

It tears at me from the inside,
like claws and teeth shredding
their way through my ribs and skull,
seeking freedom from their restraints,
a great beast given over to primal urges,
and I find myself wanting to let it;
a fired blood feeds the desire
to roar and forget, to surrender
to anger and passion, to let pain
and hate rend flesh and break bone,
and to drink deep from the cup of rage,
even as I know it will not sate this thirst.
But I thirst, and I hunger,
and in silence, alone, I must endure.


I long for the peace
that comes with dying:

to fade into the afterglow
of a life no longer wanted,
to settle into the stillness
and comfort of oblivion,
drifting aimlessly and endlessly
in the comfort of not being,
unaware of my awareness,
and blissful in the nothingness;

but twilight holds me captive,
and I must linger yet a while
between here and there.

Shotgun Silence

And when the silence takes me
all that will remain will be the
empty echo of what never was
straining in the background
of a world that never noticed,
a resonant dissonance lost
in the decay of itself.