the Fallen

The pain of the insane.
The hurt thru disdain.
Why, I ask
Why, me?
Is this life worth the livin’
Or I’m stuck in a worl’ fit for dyin’
And no stars up in the sky
Can tell me why it was I.
The one to fall from my greatest high?
Into a darkness of thy.
Yet again, it was I
The one who failed to die.


‘Tween the lust of pain one could not find any gain, as scavengers circle above thy head to whom shalt thou turn to when none now know who thou art.
Would look finally into thy own eyes, master of doom, whom doom mastered.

the broken Mirror

In a dark room faintly illuminated by street lamps a dark figure sat crouched, lost within his thoughts a mere shadow of the man he was to be, that be me on a normal day thinking about the past, my life an ornate mirror crashed on the floor each fragment reflection a different side of me the rage, the hate the fear the pain the sorrow yet I looked for one that reflected a smile, I begin to piece my life together and as I look into each piece pain fill my soul each one of them leaves a bloody cut behind, it doesn’t take much until rivers of blood trickle down my arm few moments later I look back at my work a blood stained mirror riddled with cracks, a shattered life of misery and pain. It will be easy to walk away, turn a new leaf, change once more into some one else be a new me erase my past, yet I wonder how much of my self have a I lost changing from person to person, can I still cal my self me?
A new year started yet I have been unable to change, still my days go by with constant reminders of my past, the cold nights miss thy warm touch, still I walk pathless alone in darkness, your memory still haunts my waking hours. My dreams still taunt me. Yet your smile has left me.

intoxicated lie

A sweet scent draws the mystic shade closer into a wicked conner, of a dark town crumbling into chaos, the street infested with rogue flowers, powers and intoxication. Yet only a single scent drowned among the rest serpents its way through the throng of cheap perfume to one lost to the world, deeper into the madness he follows reaching the halogen lit opium room with green tables and polished teak floor, exotic perfume intoxicating the mind and teasing the body, yet that sent holds not his mind like a blood hound on the trail he senses his prey is near his fair skin is riddled with goose bumps, the hair on the back of his neck prick. Hw has closed in on the prey cornered in the dark hole, like an alcoholic he moves forward his hands trembling head bobbing, a slow hummm emerges from the crowed followed by rustic percussion, a flute fiddles its melody from a far conner the lights dim into darkness, pin pricks of light the only remainder of the narcotics, from heavens pitch black above like fallen angles bathed in light descend, clothed in but their skin the tempo quickens the angels sway their hair black as rivers on a moonless night flirting with the opium laced air, the madness of the devils delight mounting on building up into deadly intoxication, they fall in the arms of awaiting pleasure seekers, as dusk turns to night the room is filled with naked flesh, yet one unfazed by the narcotics or skin awaits silently as pairs of heavily drugged couples move away into side rooms to waste the night away, one forgotten in the darkness a shade of a bygone era lingering on for death waits yet no one answers his waiting plea.
The sweet scent failed him yet again. He walks away from it all knowing only too well he shall pursue yet again a scent into the bowels of death, in hunt of one that might free his soul once a again, one who might make a new his destroyed heart of stone.
He sat upon the edge of the world staring into the ink dark sky and a twinkle of light zooms by were the gods mocking him yet again or did chance favour him?
The light brings hope to his darkened mind and he follows the path of the star in to burning dust.