Lost in the Blue Ridge Mountains

The Blue Ridge Mountains,Wreathed in rolling sheets of mist,Now carry my heart. A shovel and hike,Beyond these paths less taken,In a still clearing,Where brooks weep for a lost land,I buried my heart,In a stony grave so dark,Night skies flowed inside,So calm, black stillness. The shovel scraping,Like a farewell aria,Drew up a thick mist,Salt-stained with my … Continue reading Lost in the Blue Ridge Mountains →

Phantasmagoria

As she mused over the whereabouts of the missing monks, a gust of wind tugged at her haori, and the reedy, distant laughter of children seemed to momentarily vanish from the chilled air. She took another wary step down the mountain path, but paused. There shouldn't be children on the mountain this late at night.

That’s Not Happiness

It's a delicious mood,The need to inflict hurt, to crush a dream,to break a heart,to shatter their illusion their glass houses,their fragile lives,their little white lies, Until finally they know,They can finally understand,Why this still hurts. Pain washes away pain,But that's not happiness,

Hook

Within Orphic shadows I slumbered soft,Chased by such dreams caught well aloft,Until I, by sweet nepenthe's quaff,Find me falling, falling off,Back into harsh reality,And the sanity,That my vanity,Fought-oft.

The Gentle Lie

Upon soft winds I gently lie, Warmed by the sun in lofty sky, The smell of coffee drifting by, With the tang of smoke on my sigh, There's nothing left for me to try, But allow these lonely tears to dry.

I’d like to be your villain

I'd like to be your villain,A monster to fear,Punishment by holy writ,Kicking you back down,To bleed, to suffer, to hate,So when the day comes,When you tear out my black heart,Throw me from the heights,And stomp on my loathsome skull,I'll know you're worthy.

Between Sleep, Waking Dreams

I lie still in my bed,Drawing out the calm,Between sleepand the waking dream,Sinking slowly into thought.White little bugs nibble,Tearing me away gently,Just at the edge of my mind,And the humor of my eyes,Fraying my edges like old paper,Slowing the endless wave,Of neurons and and memories,None of which are mine.Tell me, little bugs,What memories are sweeter?The … Continue reading Between Sleep, Waking Dreams →

Summer is an aching scream

Summer is an aching scream,So agonized and distended,That it comes out only as a whimper,Consumed by the cicada song.

Stalking Pray

I'm afraid of touching you,Not that you're fragile,(indeed, you're tougher than I)But you always flee,As though you're afraid of me,"I'm protecting you,"Feels like a hollowed-out phrase,When those words draw blood,Tearing away at my heart,Leaving me to think,"I'm not the prince, after all;Was I the villain?"

I Caught a Dream

I caught a dream smoking my last cigarette,Knees tucked against her chest,A small frown upon her lips,Looking for all the world like an angel,All the more alluring because she's the devil,Promising nothing; because dreams must end.