To always be the one forever waiting.
With all of that time you’ve been stealing.
But still there is a path that’s rarely taken.
By river’s edge nearest a blackened sun.
Where it’s said you get all of those dreams.
But from where souls don’t ever come back.
The old secret not many really get to hold.
I would guess it’s just the way of this world.
Cosmic fate has guided me this night.
With eminence she sits among her celestial kin.
Pale and pure light calling forth ancient bloom.
I take my place of humbled witness.
Enfolded ivory petals stir with her very kiss.
Tears of gratitude fall upon accepting soil.
A stretching skyward reveals true radiant form.
I offer addoration and praise of nature herself.
Basking within her luminescent resplendence.
Cursing the sun’s inexorable return.
But until that time I am stilled, finding my peace.
The stranger with a still drying name.
Covert missionary in a foreign land.
lit cigarette and the gospel of death.
Seeking ghosts in the Serpents Fire.
Where he sipped french intoxication,
falling to spells di inferi in ravens hair.
Eyes of blackest waters shimmering
in moon’s light.
A red dress rose above azov stockings.
Deadly glances her question point blank,
“Shall it be your room or mine?”.
Seduced by sin, drunk with need.
Seductively lead to her ravenous den.
Once a cork popped she temptingly said,
“I love drinking champagne when I’m wet”
Two lovers at their best, in passionate heat.
Flushed cheeks, purient cries, as she’s ontop.
In loss of control his eyes close as he lets go.
And from above an angel of death descends with a silent muzzles flash.
That son of a prick born the year of the cock.
With a dirty ass mouth before he could walk.
Once a lost boy who ate his cookies with liquor.
Now that Pan asshole shines of stripper glitter.
And ones that he met wouldn’t throw him a bone.
He would cry if he could but he can’t so he don’t.
Cause it wasn’t about where he came
in the end.
Some are just pissed he never came
Little advice if you meet that charming lunatic.
Leave it alone cause he’s a real son of
She’s no ballerina.
But she would dance with me.
Her eyes aren’t blue skies.
But she kept rainy days away.
No angel is she.
But these wounds she did heal.
Saintly? No damn chance.
A little thing that swears like hell.
But with a soul that shines a light.
She’s nowhere near perfect.
But It’s where this man liked to be.
She’s a wonderful wreak.
But it’s in the most beautiful way.
As dawn breaks the night of my darkest shame I think of you.
Warmed by your memory the cold reluctantly releases its icy hold.
Through obscuring clouds rays of redemption shine upon my face.
Renewed purpose I find in lambent eyes, my strength of will restored.
The sun overtakes a distant horizon, nor will I fall to the shade of regret.
The earth she turns eternal just as light fills spirit and sky once more.
My loves, you will forever be the saving sunlight.
Late one night while killing some time.
In a tv’s reflection I watched myself die.
With a door locked and curtains drawn.
Always drunk enough to follow that line.
There with 3 spent bottles and half a ball.
While Gideon sat quietly in a top drawer.
I would curse clocks untill the birds sang.
And with them came a morning’s blame.
See for too many years I lived that life.
Of forsaking day and loving my shame.