The Edge

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There will always be that something that you will seek,

that you will search for, that keeps chasing you in your dreams.

A nagging little hunger, a restlessness, a need to move and do,

to chase an exhilaration, face fear after fear,

stare the devil in the face with a defiant grin on your face,

before returning to the point of equilibrium,

as you retreat back to the edge of the ledge

and you wait for your next victim.

 

Her Love

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She carries a secret smile in her heart.
It radiates the love and elation
built in dreams,
where freedom of imagination
and reality merges into one
to become the moments
she spends with you.

To All You Non-Dreamers Out There

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the soul leaves the sleeping self towards an astral plane

where light beings soar with the whispers of the dreamers

that floats like music through a velvety darkness,

before sparkling with a delight that scatters twinkling eyes

into the infinite night sky.

those who lie sleepless, caught in the earthly tangle of roots

that slowly suffocates and destroys their ability to dream,

these twinkling eyes touch down upon as they stare into the darkness,

and leave behind some starry dust that slowly re-fills their need to dream.

 

Of Darkness...

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There’s an owl on your roof

and the crows hover near,

a black cat is waiting

to enter your sphere,

while a cold wind is tearing

your psyche apart,

submit to the dark

that of you is a part.

 

For the owl rules the night

and befriended your soul,

struck at the crows

that your sanity stole,

while the cat bides the time

for your spirits’ descent,

to merge with your secrets,

to end your torment.

The Stalker

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Disquiet surges through my being, I want to crawl out of my skin,

my hackles are raised each time it breaks, the silence not silent at all.

Something is chasing me, steadfastly hunting me,

corrupting all that I see, how I feel, and what I know,

and it leaves a gaping hole of distrust in its wake.

And he skims past the border of my consciousness

shading the light with his darkness,

and unrest snakes through my veins,

churning disorder I cannot process,

and my mind cannot rest for he’s stolen my sleep,

so please give me something to take off this edge

that is wearing my psyche down. 

The Quicksand of your Love

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Learning-to-fall-190244596

Observing from the distance I was drawn,

intrigued by your being and your wit,

whilst up close the faint detachment

gave way to a fire

that burnt through countless nights of darkness,

illuminating the fusion of our limbs and our hearts,

and I willingly sank into the quicksand of your love.

Homesick

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I am homesick to the future

which lives in my every thought and deed,

I can feel the absolute fear and panic

to rescind each word once spoken,

and I can feel tears of regret

rolling down my cheeks...

yet all the while knowing

that this is the only way,

fear can be overcome,

and that the time to leave this place is now,

leave its memories of restriction and domination,

so that I can still this restless soul

that now needs to find her own way home....

 

The Hourglass

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/In-the-Hourglass-39087440

 A silent exchange conveys consent

to eyes reflecting an equal intent

that seamless temptation transcends.

Motion and rhythm, a flawless song,

as the master draws fulfilment

from expectant strings that quiver

and obey his every touch.

Transient moments become their book

of languid stretches in their memory,

as the sand in the hourglass

steadily falls,

consuming this grace in time.

Of Weekend Pleasures

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In the empty hours of a cloudy, weekend morning,

when the bitter freshness of a reluctant winter

bites at bare skin, and bones slowly absorb

the cold through a black leather shield,

barely restrained vibrations tremble through the body,

you hold your breath with the lean into the curve,

and emerge with a rush as the throttle opens up

through the bend into a swiftly approaching horizon
along a dotted line of white that merges as one…

The Hunter

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The Hunter is on the prowl this black and stormy night

where branches strike at roofs and windows,

and assaults the subconscious fears of those

who dare to listen to their wrath.

He feels their fear, he needs no light,

their scent a clear path to his offering, his prey,

who is defenseless and exposed, removed from the arms of his protector,

who is dwelling in the cloak of safety endowed onto those

who live in the spirit world, in essence and in presence.

His strike is deadly, through the forest into the heart,

the absolute silence deepening as he targets in on his prey,

seconds hover between life and death...

...it’s the arms of his protector that close ‘round him,

shielding him in her cloak, as the gold-tipped arrow hisses past

and comes to a quivering stop in the wall behind his heart.

It’s The Hunter who can’t miss, born of anger and in darkness,

but who’s earthly touch can’t feel, cannot breach in any way,

that binding link between two souls who in spirit are connected.

...of transient matters

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You fill me with your ardent lust to still my restless soul,
you lead my thoughts into the space where you my mind control,
and when the hunger claims these limbs of transient ownership,
our heat collides with blazing force ‘til shock-waves through us rip.

The River of Shredded Souls II

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After time immeasurable, sentience seeped through

the icy detachment that had led her into the darkness,

awareness slowly crept back into her being,

she started to open her eyes....

....a vision of her life drifted before fresh and innocent eyes,

a life path as viewed by an impartial bystander,

filtered out, the needless sorrow, pointless loss and unwarranted guilt

that brought her to her knees.

Though her soul passed a warmth of understanding

for the sins of a tortured soul, who’d lived behind walls,

behind pretence, fighting a battle that alone cannot be won,

and her strength flowed like lava through her soul, reviving her core.

The grace of absolution offered freedom from self,

lifted off the ever-present cloud of darkness

that had shadowed her on request, and the circle of destruction,

stretched to breaking point, now broke,

and her life was returned to her.

May we all get this chance in life.
 

The River of Shredded Souls

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Mem’ries thread into my consciousness, placing me

in the frozen black river of shredded souls

that suck me into a roiling vortex

of raging anger, heartache and self-destruction…

…while the river absorbs my tears,

extracts the essence of my pain,

blends it with the tears of the thousand wounded beings

who have plummeted into its depth.

My sightless eyes turn away from the light,

an icy detachment flows through me,

I relinquish all that I’ve heretofore touched,

and the End takes my hand and we go…

The Time is Now

 

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How can she tell him that it’s over, when the reason is so vague, perplexing and bizarre, that when verbalised is not easily understood, nor does it make much sense. 

They were drawn by a mutual pain, to escape their youth, and they managed to suppress that pain by drawing on each other. The scales tipped this way, then tipped that way, ‘til the stronger one touched the ground.  He provided, he was her love, and his love for her was shown with gifts and the freedom he let her have.

She fell in with the scales hanging high above the ground, lived in that which for them he created, and over time she built a world in her mind, with her subconscious vision, a place where it was she who ruled the kingdom.  Yet around the hidden corners of her mind were the closed drawers of her past, those which had started to murmur their dissent at being shut out for so long, getting louder and louder, tirelessly whispering, they wanted to be heard.

Thus she medicated her sins by heedlessly chasing every adrenalin rush she could find.  The skies weren't high enough, the speed not fast enough, the risk never great enough to silence those voices.  ‘Til chemicals found their way into her blood stream, and she liked how they felt, so she let them stay since at last she found the silent void she’d been seeking all along.

Then the moment of upheaval, when realisation pierced her senses, and the scars demanded answers… she was ready to face their guilt, accusations and disdain, she was ready to feel the pain for the first time without her self-prescribed drugs. 7 years of hell she lived in, a roller-coaster that threatened to unbalance her, whilst the silent attacks kept coming, unwanted and unexpected, and she withdrew into a silent space, without people, without hope.

‘Twas the last drawer that was holding her fast, the fear of dying too immense. Hope was running thin the day when the power of eternity crept into her soul and showed her that we’re all only here long enough to touch so many people, and when the line is at an end, that is the time to leave this realm.  Don’t dwell on it, it will surely come, but ‘til then, “Please live”, said the spirit, “please, live”.

That is when she felt the walls of the castle shrink, the bonds of her life now cutting into her skin.  She needed to live in a world that she created, without stings to hold her back, on a scale that is balanced, for she’s found the answers that she was seeking.

So how can she tell him that it’s over, with this reason so vague, perplexing and bizarre, and now that you have heard it, may not make much sense to you either...

A Case of Addiction

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Entrenched in my being, you flow through my soul,

there's hunger I cannot suppress,

nerve-endings raw, a forceful desire

drives through me, no gentle caress.

I fear I will break by your very first touch,

as you thread your way into my skin,

I breathe in your breath, you burn me alive,

your essence I need to take in.

I wish to stay here, in this ocean of bliss,

but hunger again doth rise,

seeking out your gratifying reward,

with a need that I cannot disguise.

The Storm

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-Storm-26426138

 

Her mournful song is carried

by the icy howling storm,

chilling every heart it touches,

your thoughts you will conform,

a sadness deep, you can’t define,

has taken hold of you,

there is no end to this labyrinth,

you struggle but can’t ensue.

 

The winds keep on howling, clouds become darker,

an silvery mist descends,

you’re helpless when the spirits take

your soul and you now transcend,

into the heavens where you submit,

as the world around you reshapes,

surrender into her arms, suspended,

by her love you’re forever embraced.

Reality is shattered

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/breath-again-39009361

Your breath in my neck

awakens a hunger...

needy urges draw me close,

your hands claim possession

of my body claiming yours,

a match that wraps and forms

a demand that’s met and guides...

our nerve-endings explode,

all reality is shattered.

Claim my Being

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 Loss is soaking into me, seeping through my skin with the drizzle that is falling as I walk in a void of silence. Emptiness has taken over, nothingness has become the master of my limbs and sorrow is clouding each vaguely formed thought.
I cannot stop the tears that form, I have lost every inch of control, and the tenuous bank breaks and falls, burning scars across my skin.
There is no shelter from this downpour, not a chance of escaping the pain of my soul that’s torn to pieces.  And I beg the dark spirits to claim my being, to take me to the black oblivion where nothing exists, a place where the power you have over me, can’t be felt and my body can rest.
 

This IS for you

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/fire-143188760

I've lived in dark alleys, barely missing the reaper,

surged with elation that had no gatekeeper,

...as I've shed dark tears of sorrow, in a future with no light,

so I've flown with heavens creatures through a calming blue twilight...

I have hidden my desires in the hope the grief will wane,

as I stagger with surprise at the demons I have slain.

The end I cannot you foretell, as no-one whosoever,

feast on what’s before you, you know, nothing lasts forever,

I’m not making any promises, and ask of you the same,

just revel in this dance with me before it dies, this flame.

I Crumble...

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Every falsehood that I feel and deception that I hear

chips away a little piece of my heart, closes another door

as I hide behind a façade of pretending who I am,

“forget it, just forget it, it's not worth it”, so that I can face the day

without crumbling before you, a vision of that which you have created...

What Am I

picture credit: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Mist-16014385

  

Is it a fairy or a witch that is knocking on your door these dark, midnightly hours,

who gains entrance without refusal once her gaze invites you in,

and you’re captivated by the rays of the full moon that play across her hair,

that you acquiesce to her suggestions that flow softly like notes into your soul.

They awaken a deep yearning, an almost forgotten hunger surfaces

and you surrender your thinking, you follow her scent, and get drawn into her being

where the inexplicable occurs by a twist of mirthful fate...

a seamless rhythm pulses through their veins ‘til their heart beats murmur a song,

and they rise as a joint spirit, free to look upon the world...

The Dead Hour

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It’s called The Dead Hour, 3 a.m., a time every soul must sleep,

for that is the time the demons come out to play,

their prize the nightmare that rips through your dreams for eternity.

Unforgiving they stalk you, take pleasure in your weaknesses

and turn them into mind games that warps your psyche

into a suicidal state, where the thought of eternal darkness

is preferred to the sunshine outside.  So I say sleep, my friend,

sleep at 3 a.m., let another soul take your place.