Unnamed

A thread ornate with shimmering dew, sleeps soundly though the fading light; the white relapses into slumber, as flailing day succumbs to night. The moistened thread so subtly wavers, ever-so-slightly dreams dissolve; evolving swiftly into shudders, the thread casts sparkling dew abroad.

The passage of an entity of enmity - an enemy; the feeling of impurity which closely follows sin. Transpiring through internally, unnerving me, injuring me - leaving which was strong as weak, my guilt to condescend.

The thread awakes with ill intent, yet thin and frail, eluding sight; bending and buckling under weight, with beings enshrouded, grasping tight. In cover of darkness works compound, 'till the morrow bears a virulent web; lynched and hanging lies a man, ensnared inside his tears of dread.
--

Rose Garden

Amongst inshrouded flailing stems
my mind is casually strewn about
Thorns create bleeding jagged wounds
each relaxing breath I breathe blood out

As the razor thorns pierce deep my lungs
I dissect upon my darkest hours
Thick memories pour from mangled flesh
Breath fading from red choking flowers

bite the bitter bullet, rusted
scream inwardly perverse, disgusted
tears only salt as flesh divorce
razor and skin's sick intercourse

Cutting deeper, eyes outpouring
Stems lovingly refuse to soften
Breath utters forth sad boiling whisper
Seething twine becomes my coffin

At loss to struggle, thorns torn deep
My heart now pierced, my eyes now blind
Barbed stems seal shut my silent throat
Her image still infests my mind

bite the softened bullet, rested
dreams blurringly inverse, adjusted
tears calmly stop, thoughts discourse
..pitfalling infinite remorse
--

The Derelict

at last I break the thread
grasping to the ledge
through the void I fall
close to end it all

and past the wound is blood
and past the blood is pain
and past pain lives the toxins
..coursing through my veins

(chorus)
transpiring the thought indistinct
into thoughts outspoken
dreaming, chanting, lost forever
yearning for what's stolen
falling from the true divine
to death of emotion
fumbling, falling, tripping down
my will my soul.. is broken

and through my smile I cry
tears hidden from the naked eye
still silently I pray
and wish it all away

and past the wound is blood
and past blood lives decay
and past decay are demons
boring through my brain

transpiring the thought indistinct
into thoughts outspoken
dreaming, chanting, lost forever
yearning for what's stolen
falling from the true divine
to death of emotion
fumbling, falling, tripping down
my will my soul.. is broken

in time the gash will mend
in time I'll condescend
the memories burning bright
of days of endless night

and past the scar lies hate
hate for nothing's left
and past hate lies the sorrow
..of the derelict
--

Absolute Zero

Fast osculating are thoughts postulating
voices conjured whisper plans so absurd
So incredibly wanting yet equally haunting
It grates on raw nerves to feel so allured

Border precarious when one is delierious
(or is it, being irrational?)
Consequence serious when one will be fearless
(or is it, consequence eternal?)

through malefactors doth malediction rise
through martyrs doth justice prevail
in times of darkest fears discorded
the jaws of hell gape open wide

The doctrine that the ascetic life releases
the soul from bondage to the body
and through the man doth life permit
unioned love of great divine...


Feedback is appreciated. Thanks.

I wonder if you truly believe anyone will waste their time reading that....

So, in essence, you're saying that reading others' creative literature is a waste of time?

Is this too much text for you? I'm so deeply sorry...!