Something Old

There comes a time when all loves die, when only the hollow withered husk remains. When all is for not and reason is lost to tide of despair that washes in. The good forgotten and the ill is all that remains to guide you on your path . When that occurs all you can do is cry for the world you lost and steel yourself for the world that will be created by the flames of the dying feelings you felt. Brace your self for the long winter to come as the heart repairs and you move on.

Tithes of 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