(the collaboration with my dear poet friend Nightmute– this time we dared to travel into much darker realms…inspired by the fantastic Lacuna Coil song “Our truth’)
Blizzard plays with strands of hair,
and glass-eyed, I am left to stare
at the remains left wickedly whipping;
keening winds, my skin is ripping.
Desperation comes to call, despair
seizes me, and I’m fully aware
of a lifetime spent in sin.
Crippled, yet I won’t give in.
Chunks of change, of Time, etched on
a face Fear cracked, my beauty gone,
stabbed with the knife of disillusion,
viewed through spectral eyes, confusion
dawns, so cruel, the stroke.
Sweated vapor rises from me like smoke.
Torment, rue the day my mouth
opened sideways, speaking South
when North’s not found to be so true,
where unwinged ghosts malign my view.
Linger, dead flowers, inked on places
where once-breathed dreams contain the faces
of loved ones bled so true;
can’t stop the chill, send cash in lieu
of Storm’s ensuing flowering bloom.
This blossom colored, then lost, makes room
for a subterranean feel with traces, flow
of smoldering hope on primal snow,
etched on this face, in hideous gloom.
Blinding white amid the gathering brume.
Coming at me, their blades unchaste,
hunt me, confront me with too much haste.
Eclipse the day, twisted flame-driven waste,
along the air with an inferno-tortured taste.
Consuming time, eating flesh,
wanting to taste my bones, so fresh.
Can’t see, can’t be, can’t hope, can’t breathe!
My intestines roil, my emotions seethe.
Ashed over again, trapped deep inside
with haunting ever-unquenched fire, denied.
Rebellion fills my pumping veins,
I grasp at sky even as it wanes.
Won’t fall, won’t stall, ain’t gonna crawl
through this wicked, wintry squall.
Watch me sweetly bleed myself
upon thy ribbon’d, rasping tongue.
Watch me sweetly, while you bat
an uncaring eye at the song I’ve sung.
Throw a wink and offer a grin
in the midst of my troublesome throes.
Catch the slamming, demeaning lid
of my sarcophagus, exposing my woes.
And whisper, then, so sweetly, Love,
with lips of tainted wine,
“It is I who hast ever Loved thee, Dear.
‘Tis so, to thee, I pine”.
Blizzard plays and I struggle on
with Truth revealed, the blade is drawn
across my vision, scything white;
in blindness, I’m broken, within your blight.