Graveyard ShiftDarkness envelopingSilent passions.We rise and fallAs one.A meeting of the soulsFor one brief moment in eternity.Sweat glistens with heavy breathing.Our flesh merges;Our need collides.Passion overriding all.The moment passes.We draw apart.I rise,My reward achieved.Another satisfied customer.
ArmorYour love, flowing freely to meis acid, caustic and burningas you attempt to mold me intoyour vision, your fantasy.Silent screams of my soulNo longer voiced afterBeing overlooked for years.My inner being has becomesteel, my softness replacedby resolve to survive.Acid may etch, but they aremere external markingsthat will never reachmy core
WindyThe night awokeAnd opened it'sBlind eyeTo the massesCovered in glitterAnd vestments of shrouded silverThey descendedAnd lighted upon the barsThe rooftopsAnd even rangThe guttersChoking and filling the airWith their screams and tremorsOf longingAnd the hunger for the huntHuddling, wrappedIn the massacres of the dayThey fire their passionsIn slim capsules of death-And squander their minutesOn liesSpoken through chapstickedWalls of fleshIn fragmentedError.
Forlorn ShadowsWhen Dreams haunt the nightThe desires of the heart cryThe exotic amber radiance makes you lovelyThe cold wind makes you paleYou think of me as a warm blanketYour love flows like a mountain riverThe child in you laughs at meThe darkness passes as time standsThe purity of our souls uniteToEternity.
AbductionIf art is the reflection of life-Then, ultimatelyLife is art.Are we attracted to the artThat we would most like our livesTo reflect?If then, the psychology of artIs for us to paintThe masterpiece of our livesWith the paints of pleasure,PainAnd experience.We must not discredit ourArtistic nature-BeLiveLoveSufferWith DIGNITY-for each is a creationof perfection in itselfand brings uscloserto purity.It is not enoughTo wishHopeAnd dreamFor those thatBECOMEMake it so by theirACTIONS.Enlightenment is attainableOnly inIntense-PerceptionOf the illusionOfReality.
Reach RushWho is to say?That with someFurious, frolicking flash of the pen-That my words mightBy transformed intoThose of geniusAnd I could sellEven the deepest ranting reachesOf my soulTo the inkAnd the perilous plodding of the keyboardWashed awayBy the tomesOf the Shakthi of the written word.And I might,PerhapsIn some distant, strange worldOf reality-Become known for the breadth and expanseOf my sheer thoughtPut to paperCrafted without formAnd without lifeLiving entirelyUpon theBlankNothingnessOf pulp andImagination.
Love in the time of AnthraxShifting gazes-The madness reachesInto the depths of meI remain, half eatenAnd destroyedBy your senseless sentimentsAnd gored into the fleshBy this rotten diseaseThat gnaws awaySlowlyCorruptingAndCrystallizingMy thoughts withYourWarmnessAnd the scentOf your cigarettesWhich I now tasteOn my tongue.
10:36am on a sunday morningWhy do you torment me so;Demons?Above me,Eyes . . . fangs dripping with bloodDid I not pay homage to you?Some forgotten timeOne day agoMy anger exceededTil my thoughtsI chased awayAt two logicsAnd destroyed anotherPart of meIn mourning . . .That was then-Now, I'mMe-I think . . .I say . . .I do not know . . .Another part-To ashes.
It's only meEyes that holdThe pain insideCrushed likeShellsOn the helplessTide.Come closer . . .Come closer!To see what you see . . .Do come closer . . .It's only me!The meThat held youIn your hourOf fearThe meThat told you . . .You were my dear!The meThat comfortedWhen timesGrew coldThe meThat shieldedWhen othersGrew bold.The meThat brightenedWhen darknessDrew nearIt's me!Your silence . . .You have nothingToFear.