Saturday, September 27, 2014

The Devil who's Hanging over Me

picture credit:

I’ve willingly lain in your lap of thorns, drawn in your poison, listened to your whispered oaths of silent detachment, an echoless void of sweet floating velvet with unspoken promises of my demise.
I followed you gladly, succumbed to my recklessness, heeded your every summons and I questioned not a word as I sank into your controlled emotionless state.
Empty black eyes stared back at me through the mirror, gaunt of face with lifeless lips, indifference and black became the clothes I wore, and impassive the language that I spoke.
I have so little strength left, my blood is draining through the wounds left by your thorns and as it colours red the rocks beneath my feet they feed your power, while I become a cold and lifeless form, falling, just as promised, to my demise.


  1. how give yourself so completely to willing..only to ultimately have the life drained from you....

  2. This could be about another person or the war we have with ourselves. I always believe the war is always with the thoughts we have about ourselves. Poetry perfection.

  3. Please resist, my dear friend. For there will be no rest to be found in such an end. Be assured that this observation comes from much more than mere belief.

  4. You know, only when we go through things do we realise the value of having made it across.
    You'll one day be glad you went through something that then shaped you into the beautiful you.

    I'm here for you.


  5. Beautiful and well-written. Have a lovely week.

  6. One needs to lay in the thorns to find my heart, it is how I protect it and all the love it contains. What is blood? Only the motor oil of this place, I would a better one.