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Proud `99 No Good Karma Can Come Of This `99 My Hands `99 Underwater `99 |
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Knowing you is hard, You have dark eyes that tell your lifes story as you want it to be heard, But you have a heart that sings a song of truth, You have tanned calused hands, that are roughf to touch, Yet, your cheeks are soft, pale and they blush, You speak in many tounges and in many tones, But i can comprend them all, You hide in a dark circle by yourself, I know the sun will not hurt you...I know your secrets. |
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To my darkened love, Love dead to the world and blackened by hate, A pile of broken glass, that is now what I once was Deep red shards with pointed black tips, Left in vain for me to walk upon, My feet feel not the sharp points, I have no care for what this world has left me with, No remorse for those I leave behind, Adieu to the light, For I have done with thee. |
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Wandering aimlessly through the twisted masses of it's garden, No flowers, no life, A garden of death,emptyness,and lost love, Holographic illusions, disapear at it's grasp, Torturus memories and unreached visions of future, Unable to cry, unable to express, Just being, Aimless, in this black place, It's garden. |
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Judgeing on only what it see's, Nothing that thinks itself pure can be not byuss, Purity is earned, not by obstaining but by doing, Seeing with eyes is not a tool of judgement, Listen with your soul if you must judge pureness, The face of the moon is not the one who holds the face of an angel, The grey abused eyes, The cracked bleeding lips, The tear stained cheecks of the children of unevenged misfortune, These are what angel faces look like. |
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Overwhelmed by power, Merciless, heartless, souless, A creature of evil, A dark angel in night, A messanger of hate, But, I am sure he sleeps with the innocence of a child and has a beautiful smile. |
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With a broken heart and battered knees, Comes a love to my side, To make me a druids bride, On bended knee, To state his plee, Of a love for my eyes only to see, Grant his wish,I much abide, For my heart I do not hide. |
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Is to use body and soul as a feast, Carnel knowledge of spreaded legs, The joy of refuseal,when a victum begs, The smell of burnt flesh from fire set homes, The beating of the Christian, brain washed droans, Darkness consuming a sickened world, Evil plagues soon unfurled, You sit on your throan and watch it happen, Your heart I watch, die and blacken. |
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An entangeled lapping of a serpintine tounge, Feeling as it tastes, Is like that of a lover flower kiss that licks and feels what pleasure it brings, Blood pouring down from a wounded souls heart, Is like that of the tears cried from a broken hearts agony, Plunging sword, to an enemys gut, twisted and goudgeing, Same as harsh words spoken from a lovers mouth to make a mortal wound, Fear of death, immanant and pending, Is the terrified eyes of a love waiting for the death blow to her love, from it. |
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For blemished honours he will fight, Tarnished armour, burnt and black, On his word, he will not look back, Duel to the death, he against him, The end he knows, will be grim, Standing proud, strong and fearless, His sleep now can finally be tearless, Into battlee he rides, To destroy the secret he hides. |
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If I were God, I'd make a Hell, If I were a snake, I'd make misceif, If I were an angel, I would cry a lot, If I were a child, I would play with dolls, If I were a pixie I'd kiss flowers, I am me, and I fear majik, I am me and I loath Hell, I am me and I do make misceif, I am not an angel, but I do cry, I can act like a child when I want, and I like to look at dolls, I think about being a pixie, and I keep flowers, I am me and what I use, make, cry, play, and kiss is love. |
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Candels, A hundred burning, melting, glowing candels, White wax to seal the cracks that pain leaves, Searing flame to coterize the slashes that the needles dig, Popping sizzels to drown out the screams death crys, Foolish ignorant beings, Light a candel for my soul, Light a flame for nothing I say, How can it burn for a thing that does not exist?, Light a candel for me I say, and I will blow out your flame, Light a candel for your own soul, leave mine to me, Candels, A hundred extinguished candels cold, hardened, lifeless candels. |
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Springs a child of infatuation, Kneeling to inspect all that is human, And loving all things hiding in the darkness, where-in, She plays a violin of words, secrets on tounged tips, Kissing monsters, with affectionately parted lips, Dancing in forests, of the minds shadowed corners, Playing hide-N-seek, with the worlds night loving mourners, Bathing in blood, for the lust of saddness she owns, Music in the world she loves, moans, In a dream like stat, for most of her life, Grinning only to beget strife, Painting an image of a romantic life, in which to stay, For her life she will dearly pay, All that is worth, nothing and more, In her world she can never be poor, For she laughs on the pain and depression, It softens and dulls her agression, So she dances on, into the night, Die there alone she just might. |
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Scratching at the holes in them, trying to force the skin back together, Trying to be whole, in a life that tears you apart, Pressing the holes together, like prayer, screaming in horror at the realization of this, Crying molten tears of burning saline, crying uptill sick from action, Rubbing blood stained hands across the wet grass, trying to clean the wounds, of such a dirty deed, Never clean, never innocent, never clean can they be made, Cry and scream, pray and beg, Never shall they be clean, Guilt is the dirtiest form of existance. |
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You smell like terpentine, You discust me with your very being, Revoltingly marvolous creature, You are a gangorine flavoured wound, You are a boil on my eyes, You make me sick, So putrid you are, You feel like razor blades in my mouth, Your voice is like a rabbit dying, You are so dirty, You make me feel like you. |
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A sweet bruise, on a heart full, Truths told in lies, to a dearly jelous heart, To save whom, who knows, Smiling tears, tears for self and other, Smiling vexs, staring from a friendly smile, Beliefs said, but believed, Do they satisfy, who knows, Shining gratification, instant and pure, Shining dreams, future intents, To be reached, or be wished, Able to fuffill it, who knows, A sweet hole, in a tatered arm, A sweet bruise, to a instagating heart, Truths realized, in a witherd heart, To late to save, who knows. |
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Talking of learned words, entanged by dreams dark mask, Plumed flowers, in a mass of shy distracive vines, Speaking on poetic word, with the delecacy of raven wings, Cutting to neurture the blood within the sanct of veins bewitched, A child of women, Bending to bow to the lowest depth for the task of an open door, Growing a feild in the garden of mind and eyes to see what the heart sings, Bashful indulgenses in intuative ryme, blushing the tips of tounges that brush against ears, Dancing the night, to velvet edges to slit the most delishious rist, A child of self, Procliaming the world as all and nothing, to give the night stars, Dreaming of what truth tells and betrays on own high sights, Tilling moonlite into blackened clay, from subconsious greetings, Bestoying gratification to shards of glass, existing as an ocean beyong the minds eye. |
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Eaten back words longed for release, dear hearts scorned in worship, Misguided beliefs, believed only in the beauty of flesh, Unknowing the heart behind the skins pale aura, of blue reflection, Unseeing past the grey haze of nocturnal interst, Wishing for desires, true, to be real not dream, Praying for the slightest acknowledgement of sight, A rambelling faze of an innocent girl, Wishing to be embraced by what she longs wrong to be, A realized misinterpertation, foolish, a relished laugh about now, A dear human being, for more then the net worth. Years Untold, foolish shyness, the plight of a foolish girl. |
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Thick as red wine and twice as bitter, Ever watching the sad, hardened faces of my playmates, Ever cheering them, and smiling to make thier grief thinner, But I cry alone, in the dark when no one is there to see, A joyus face only put on to bring joy to others and mock my own pains, I am but human, why should I never not be happy? What am I that does not have pains? I cry, I bleed, I feel the emotion greeter then any I know, But yet I cry in dark rooms alone, my fear only mine, without a consoling hand to wipe the tears, I am so strong, oh yes so very strong in face, Strong enough to vainly get up from my bed each day and force myself not to die, Strong enough to carry on, Strong enough to cry alone each night, And live with my secrets inside my hollow chest. |
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The velvet noose tied in her chest, presses her opression to decay, Starless skys live in the follow of her day, Her mouth tastes like burgandy, her eyes like grey, What could you tell her, why didn't you stay? Why did you hit her, why did you prey? What could you do? You have nothing to say... |
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Your dead, I'm sorry to say it but you are, Barer of bad news, what I am, I'm sorry, You have been dead for years, sorry I didn't tell you sooner, I've been busy with life, Don't worry tho, no one has noticed, Your secret is safe with me, cross me heart and hope to be as dead as you, Well I have to go now, have fun in your cofin, I'll come visit again sometime, If life doesn't keep me too busy, Bye now, Do you want me to close he lid? |
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Soft touching, dear hearted affliction, Poised high upon a cliff of battered sorrows, Drying tears that no one hears, Writing fears that no one dares near, Eyes that stare upon you with adoration and fasination, go blind after a time, Blindness caused by a blind side, that the precious build, To see and hear words is a flowering thing that can only grow by listening and looking, |
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And you are a crying soldier, who weeps upon death as it were a sin, I see nothing can be saved here, why try to fix what is already done, Let lifes trival little matters, become all you see and you hear, And you'll see you can't live forever, and love life with the most painless of hearts, The dead walk, flowers in thier hair, even in death there is beauty, and in life love will prevail, And you are a crying soldier who weeps upon death as if it were a sin, What you don't know it won't kill you, but forever eyes seek, to find what isn't there, Hollow in childs pale burnt eyes, I see the kindred of playmates, lost to a dragon in flight, But they laugh and they play with the most painless of heart, Living how Gawd did create it our plain, full of trival pleasantrys and beautiful afce to rejoice in, And you'll see that one day we will dance together in a feild of broken sorrows, Free from the ones who opress, and free like birds sing to the trees, be trivial as we can be, And you are a crying soldier who weeps upon life as if it were the most painful of deaths. |
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Joyful coffin to be illed with an oblivious childbride, Lily flower in her hand, intrigued by bloody beauty, Silken pillow to set a heavy head,eternally resting, Softly rotting, in a Lily flower sleep, They will grow up from it. |
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Light touch, painted hands flowered with passion, Entangeled mouths, sweetened by adoration and bliss, In a humbeled embrace, staring out to the moon that we share only in a brief interlude, Loving the motion that it reminds, Watery eyes, cried with love wanting, Nails clawing, hurting skin that lones for a touch, Sore lips, bitten to bleed lonliness, In a disatisfying self embrace, staring out to the moon that is held as the only reasurance of the end of pain striken nights, Anxious eyes, caotic with excitment, Strong embrace, breaking bones happily, Smashing mouths, in cutting pain enjoyed more then life, In an everlasting embrace, staring out to the moon that kept hope alive till realized. |
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Hearts held in silver boxes to remind the pain of the heart, why angels never help when most needed in this life, Haunted bedroom of thrown regret, forgotten pasts that churn in the eliteness of hypocrosy, clawing at what used to be, Sighing red, for birth of firture, changling child, with no empathy to take, down to what is there and not fantasy, I wake in dreams, of fear in books. |
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Oh such a horrible threat, A threat I will gladly yeild to again and agian, Such a prison of velvet skin and tighteniing arms, Where I can lay all night, in warm silence, Only breath to lull me to sleep, You can noy exit my arms, Oh give me my sweet prison everynight. |
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Meshed rist veins, of ebony and light, Wrapped on a pixie frame, Entrapping the whispers under tear soaked lids, Gail churub gasps, lips on petals of stories mumbeled in sleep, Oblet eyes, and spider ridden veins, Velvet touched mouth, falling through mist soaked sheets, Daughter in legend, mythed by time, Does she seek, what she will find? |
| Is the fact that I enjoy undressing infront of open windows, the draw back of my sentuality? A constant erge to peer at my reflection in closed car door windows, the impulsive force that drives me to mirrors when I have forgotten what my eyes look like today. That I take it upon myself to to fullfill the sexual void that deepens my stomach with such vigar and lack of respect for what I could wait a day for. The long for agressivness to take hold of my rists and plunge into me with such force that could be attributed to self defence. The want to hear my name cried in the anguished voice of passion and worship.The greed consumes. It becomes the drive that pushes me to excitment, the thought of your voice in pure agonistic pleasure. I did that. And the chesire smile crosses my face with a certin vain attitude. The draw abck to my sentuallity is my eagerness to please, for my own pleasure. The selfish condention I call myself, to the brink of erotic oblivion. To share a moment where I feel I can bestow some happiness on your silent life. To convey what I feel without upsetting your beloved termoil, without saying a word. The draw back to my sentuality is my inability to find yours. |
Honey, you're the warm safe place,
And I will dream in you, on the day the funeral is held,
I will become my own dragonfly, Sugarplum,
And you the earthin means on which to stand,
I will jump from your platform,
Sprout wings and sore,
To hights that chemicals cannot touch,
And be my own dragonfly, Cutiepie,
Make my dress from lily petals and build a bed of amber, Bind my soul with ivy and cry pure peppermint,
Because I will be my own dragonfly, Littleone,
And you will be my onlyone as you are and will be always.
No Good Karma Can Come Of ThisA gentle soul screams hateful words and mocking sneers, Playing an unending and rediculas game of whom did whom wrong most, Hurt, producing hate, spitting insults, blinding all salvation that could have ever been, A bigger man could rise above but all small men loose. |
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If my hands could be read to what reality tells true, For your sake they would lie, Hide them in your black majik bag and wish them away, For I would cover your mouth with them to repress what pain they could cause, What worlds these hands could crush between small fingers, with amber rings, They will touch soft cheecks, to brush away deep tears, They will hold strong hands, in praise of hope, And reach stigmata with no joy, For your sake they will lie, If my hands be blessed, yours be damned. |
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My Mercedes My pocketbook blindness My angel told me it would be ok My angel told me maybe He was beautiful so I believed him Everything the beautiful say seems so true My evening depression My many mouths I wonder sometimes If the cards he read were true Nemesis boy, to be loved as only to be cherished My bloody wasteland My frozen plain If I push my fingers deep inside I can resitate the feeling He told my guts to purge My three beauties, my three mouths I could scream but it would enduce drowning |
