The Ghost of You

When I was still a child
I thought life was a fairytale
positivity followed me
like a moth to the flame

but that flame guttered out
and the moth flew away.

The hardest part of letting you go
was the moment before
your lungs stopped breathing
and your eyes fluttered open
settling on our faces

but when you looked at me
the life behind them faded away.

For a blissful moment
your consciousness felt like hope
but in the flick of a light
it was revealed that hope
is an illusion of trickery.

I could not hear the flatline
over the tortured screams
echoing from within my heart
breaking into the air as silence,
the inability to breath
or to feel.

It was on that day
positivity became a knat
that was swat away
when near to me.

If I never fly I will never crash
if I never feel I will never hurt
but to survive without love
without life
will only leave me empty.

Positivity is nearer now
but I am afraid
oh so afraid
that perhaps I have been
the moth my entire life
chasing a flame built on tragedy.

I hope this is my happy ending.
Watch over me and please
hold my hand if it isn’t
like I tried holding onto yours
as you closed your book
and turned to the next chapter in mine.

I reread my chapters
which contain you in them
they have always been my favorite
and I miss you
oh I miss you
I want to hold your hand
like we did when I was free.

Sweeter Than Silence

I want to add more to this later on, and I believe I want to set it to music, but am not entirely sure. It is a work in progress.

---

She always had an attraction to the dark,
   to the chaotic and the soiled.
The fire consumes her but never burns,
   it soothes her cold heart.

Sleepless nights and starless skies,
   those are familiar to her.
Sunbeams in her hair will never feel as good as the rain.

She falls in love with hurricanes,
   they tear her into shreds.
The sheets are empty,
   in her memories dance shadows.

Battered flesh and tortured soul,
   yet she has the courage to love.
Whispers in the dark are sweeter than silence.

Vanishing Beauty

I continually dream into a kaleidoscope of madness.
Stalked be iridescent fantasies which soiree inside my head,
While I watch the silhouette of a thousand dreams pass me by.
As I anticipate my end, I witness dead euphoric beauty dragged behind the heels of a Valkyrie. Through the dirt.
To remember the monumental bliss of that cascading beauty, is the most painful thing I surely can do.
For to remember it, is to long for it, and to long for it, is to suffer.
One thousand symphonies could not express what the beauty once was, nor the sorrow that comes with the knowledge of its passing.
For to remember it, is to long for it, and to long for it, is to suffer . . .

Angels and Demons

Hatred, pain, and happiness
have dissolved away like snow.
Only the dull emptiness
remains in my dying heart.

Dreams have been dashed against the ground.
Love has withered and grown sour.

Stars have grown dim and the sky is now empty.

I am crushed by the weight
of my own consciousness
To be who I want to be
or who I am told to be?

My thoughts are jumbled and my words incapable of expressing my soul.

I want to scream and I want to cry.

I want to be swept away
and rescued from my torment.

The Winds of Change

The winds of change are blowing free,
But my old ways have captured me.
The howling roars inside my head,
As fierce as the night is black.

Which voice is mine and which is evil?
Which path should I travel on?
Two trails lay before me,
The left is easy, but leads to desert,
The right is treacherous, and leads to mountains.

Monstrous Confusion

I no longer breath as I did before,
I no longer sing the song I used to sing,
I can no longer dream as I used to dream.
Even my screams are different things.

I open the doors but never walk through.
I am unsure if fear holds me back.
I am unsure if I even want to walk through.

If there is one thing I do know,
It is that I have no idea what I want.

Every thought is cloaked in shadows and doubt.

I do not know my body or my face.
I do not know my hopes or my dreams.
I do not know my fears or my strengths.
I do not know what to do.

I wish a hero was watching me.
One which held back from rescuing me
but feels they cannot stand idly anymore.

I may be the hero and I need to save myself
Though I do not know what I need saving from.

Maybe the monster is me and I am the monster.

[No Title]

I want to have the words to describe what I am feeling, but I don't.

Even trying to find the proper words leaves my head reeling.

I am filled with love disguised as hate or perhaps my hatred hides behind love.

My directions are unclear, and my path is covered by the leaves of changing seasons.

Do I see beauty or ashes by my reflection in the mirror? I can't tell.

Is it the light of dawn shining through the trees, or the sun determined to bring me to my knees?

To be a fool who believes himself to be wise, or a wise man who has to play the fool.

Flames that cool and ice that burns.

Sinking into the sky and soaring into the earth.

I want to have the words to describe what I am feeling, but I don't.

Heroes and villians dance between my ears and across my memories.

Night and day, brick and straw, ice and fire, opposite but related.

My thoughts have no substance. They jump from here to there unable to be contained.

A torrent of vulgar and graceful waters rip through my being.

Ascendence. Deliverance. Independence