Noose

Slip free from the noose

That’s had me hanging

From the tree of certainty

In the valley of forsaken

 

Wandering the valley of the broken

Looking for the cliff of uncertainty

Wailing into the void like a banshee

Keening my song into the night

 

As I run from the sun , keeping my back to to the dawning light

My demon is on the loose

And I feel it changing

I feel it becoming me

Who wants Forever

This will never end

This is all I will ever know

There is no promise

There is no way to mend

All that remains is all I miss

All I see is what the mirror will show

 

Choices gone wrong

Voices familiar long gone

The sun sets

The moon forgets

 

Only the flickering flame of blame

Waiting to ignite the furnace of shame

To end the chill

Of all I feel

And the only thought of hope is to choke

Upon the blacken smoke

 

Of what was once a soul

And a lifetime of sin takes its toll

Morning Star

Twisting, turning

I can feel it burning

My soul aflame

In the long night’s pain

Where winning and losing are the same

And there’s nothing left to gain

From the bones of tomorrow

That create only more sorrow

To go with the memories of dreams

That became the nightmares of which I would scream

 

If only I had a voice

I would sing of the folly of choice

I would say aloud

All that once made me proud

Yet only hasten my fall

In the hope filled vanity

Of trying to keep my war torn sanity

In a world gone insane

By the phantom pain

 

That hope brings like little whispers

From the graves of the brave

And broken star trippers

Who cannot be saved

In mourning of the passing day

In the morning of a new way

The garden

​In the end

There was no sin

For every vice was free

As the virtuous paid no heed

To the darkness they had within

For its light did grow

From the tiny seed 

That a garden of thorns would bloom

And in a forgotten room

With a locked door

There upon its dusty floor

Did the faithless knees bend

Not to praise

Or to give hope a raise

But to suckle nectar from the thorny garden

And its sweet bitterness 

The melancholy madness 

That life created

As if it was always fated

Epitaph 

Two lights streaming 

Both belong to my dreaming

One the path of vice

The other to virtue 

Though neither belong me 

He who has been cursed thrice

By choice, by  nature and by nuture

The warring fractures

Of my selves know it’s true

They battle for control 

Sometimes they know peace and let me be

Still the peace takes its toll

And all my good works become undone 

Like the setting of the sun

And now in darkness

At the edge of melancholy madness 

I see the light

Which to take left or right

I look back upon my life

I look back upon my death

I see the final breath

And the hand the wields the knife

I smile 

For after awhile 

I know the damage I have wrought

And the price I paid

For it was my nature I obeyed 

Let my death be remembered like my life an afterthought