Bitter Ink

How often I drain my pen of the bitter ink

Only to dip it back in time and time again

Scratching out verses

With the blood of my soul

Hearing the words rattle off like ancient curses

 

Living off the hope

With a shattered mind

Wallowing in disrepair

Without a fuck to spare

Using the pain to cope

The only high I find

In my reality of low

The scars never show

 

The deep dark abyss of the light once again

Swallowed me whole

As I taste the sweet poison in my drink

That life has poured for me

I taste all I was, all I ever will be

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

Some

Some beg and some borrow

Some bring joy and others sorrow

Some stay and some go

Some I’ll never forget

Some I’ll never remember

Here in this cold December

Even if you insist it’s May

I feel the winters chill and know this is the darkest day

In a time of warmth the winds blow cold

Upon scars of old

Wounds that open daily that resist

The Healing of time

And demand to exist

Tithes of Darkness

Darkness

I speak of it often

Writing volumes on the subject

A feeling that defies intellect

I speak of misery of the soul

I wax poetically of the toll

The wages paid in sin

Trying to escape it’s madness

The tragic cycle of its sorrow

That grips my every tomorrow

I speak of it all

Of the highs and the inevitable fall

 

Yet rarely do I speak of the lights that sustain me

The things that allow me to survive to be

I survive off love and hate

Hope and apathy

I choose my sustenance well

And there I dwell

Till I have had my fill

And regained my will

 

The love of those I care for

The hate that renews me

The hope of a better day

And the apathy to step away

I exist in a confused harmony of opposing forces

A perfect storm in human form

Aware of the choices

Yet careless of the consequence

For a slave to my nature I am

And whether I dance

With Angels or Devils

I am to be among the Damn

 

Still the choice was mine

And in the voice of time

I speak my truths and listen to the folly

Fine is 

Death is fine

Life is fine

Everything is fine

All it takes is time

There’s no reason

No Rhyme

Only Hell is out of season

With Heaven closed 

And limbo is foreclosed
No Virgil to guide

No sin to hide

Only virtue to confide

The blood dim tide rises

The wicked and righteous gather round

Still they wear their disguises

All hoping for the crown

Yet unable to rule the kingdom

For they know not what is to come
Judgement sits upon an ivory throne

Made of forgotten bone

Yet no word from on high

Can judge the those gathered here

For even justice does lie

For the truth it does fear
The fear palpable mixed with copper scent

Is all that it knows 

Laughter is all it shows

Knowing it cannot prevent

The crumbling of the center

As the soul begins to splinter
Leaving only a fraction

Left with any point of action

And that action leads to Limbo

So there is nowhere to go