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Irritation Lingers in each season of horror Through each terrorizing Taunting and teasing cycle Slow. Wavering. Hours. The gears maniacally roll Conjuring the trails That will never rove again Bitterness festers In each newborn scar Disembarking its hatred With a sickly smile And irritation Soon lives In all people and places
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Without tragedy The verses stall Without chaos and wonder They are disowned In a wisp of defeat
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We stoke the world From our safe shadowy snares Bloated with calm In comfort and ease Its peril is our hearth Crackling so distant To the tune of our verses Our keyboards, enlivened with hate And all we earn Is an aimless glow A fast-moving blaze We’ll never fully contain We stoke the world Dumbfounded…
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Who was I In those downtrodden years? Where the powerful blazed In their white-hot fury? What was my worth When the walls inched higher? My role in their horror In each scheme they unfurled? And slowly I recalled The terrible winds As mayhem churned within How the world Fell away from my trials How I…
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I’d meet the eastern shore With western bones bundled And wailing for sleep I’d meet the eastern shore Tottering with ghosts With the vicious sores I have earned in full I’d meet the eastern shore And the glittering vigor Of spotlit streams I’ll meet the eastern shore In a passionate rush Unknowing Steadfast and young
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Lazy days Are meant for breathing For the savoring of empty space Where clarity prevails Wrangling a devilish mist To its death So the mind, may flourish And flutter in peace Hollow days So spacious and fair Won’t you thrive forevermore Ushering my limbs away From the maddening Skewers Below
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Madness You serrated dagger Always skewering and grinding My world to a pulp I’ll bower and I’ll weave Tottering in your drunken spell Until the earth has received The last morsel of me I’ll stew in your iron embrace Beaten to your desire And soured by fear In your murderous glare I’m the labor of…
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An impulse drags me away Time after time Through the thorn and muck Through a night’s demise
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Just barely By a quivering thread I linger in the sun My entire frame full and drowsing Gradually The afternoon inhales my strife And all the bustling labors of dawn I am soothed into silence As the spring anthem tolls Drawing me to a halt In its nurturing and motherly vise A slumber fast approaches…
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I cannot bear to speak softly As the whirlwinds dance And consume in mass I cannot stand to tread lightly As the hateful swarm Emblazed and swollen with fear I shall not bend and revere Engulfed by my trials In shambles and sullen I must never draw to a calm And flounder assured While time…
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