sharpened screams doth peirce my mind,
and leave me for the wolves to find,
out in the snow packed forest ground,
bleed endlessly, without a sound.
no search lights sent to find my shape,
nor devils seek to rent and rape,
whats left of me shall cerements drape,
and cover up now bloodless wounds.
so at the night i screamed aspersions
and my eyes left my confessions,
but from the skies did she descend
and promise me my torment’s end.
i askt “does it hurt o’er much to die?”
she said “its far more worse to be alive.”
in still dark night she took my blood,
and gave me deathless cold and love.
lurid dissensions burn my eyes,
lucid sounds of empty sighs.
ten thousand nights to wander here,
within false hopes to disappear.
scream at the stars under their shine,
“if only you could be just mine,
but for one question, i’d let you go…
How can you be so beautiful,
and so ugly all at once?”
sinister nostalgia to feel alive,
bitter resurgence of wishes to die.
a hundred years without the light,
a hundred more spent in the night.
catharsis boiling through my veins,
eternity of euphoric pains,
dark blood, the lust runs deep in me.
outside the mortal coil, ne’er free.
necropolis seen in dimmest gloom,
i lay within the empty tomb.
as darkness washed around my face,
i prayed my life i would not waste.
but stillborn souls caressed my wounds,
and kept me ever should i swoon.
with bloody hands i held them close,
the rotting dead, eternal ghosts.