Spirited

Quiet, ever so hushed and calm,
The silenced await, solemn and patient.
Bated breaths and muffled sighs,
Their rustles deafening, the whimpers blunt.

Stray not over the dizzying emptiness,
Step not on that fresh mound.
Their anguished cries may claim you,
Cries of the stricken, the slaughtered, the drowned.

You

You're the scarred soul and the blistering body,
The blood that shimmers inside,
The sweat that glistens violently,
As you stoke your demonic light.

You're the speckled sky,
The constellations floating in a queer dance,
The brilliance of the afternoon stupor,
Lit by your inner suns.

The Noose

Crowded, suffocating,
The air now closing in.
I feel the urge to escape,
Escape away from this din.

A Waking Dream

Who dwells in my waking dreams, my sleeping thoughts, The nights asked with a troubled sigh. The words fumbled to speak of her Who haunts the shadows where my demons lie. Where do I begin? Of those eyes should I confide? Seemingly fathomless and churning. Where anchors flounder and storms take flight.