Whatever you believed in was an unwritten fallacy. I'm surrounded by half witted Elizabeth Bathories. Come take a bath with me in the unbridled sins of a half breed, half seeing the suffering of a mother whose chest eroded to the unborn son of a thousand suns. Women weeping for Tammuz as the rich cruise through blood stained streets. Beneath the surface lie inverted perversions alluding towards pentagrams and broken "Pay-chology" to render you a slave, but it is written that there is only one who could save.

Woe to the decrepit old fool whose bones waste away in the night. He who dies slowly to the slow drumbeat of yesterday's enmities. Crushed under the surreal pressure that stems from his seemingly ancient bloodline. The angels do only hear his millionfold sorrows lost amidst the tomes stored against his maimed fingertips.
What was once called a friend is but a memory, lost to the voracious tides. I look out to the endless seas of this life to see a man cradled against his broken staff. His heart lie beside him, ruined in the dust that pours from his mouth. I inquired him of his estate, where he replied with a low groan reminiscent of a dying child who long lost his youth. He spake of a water that had kept him alive that hath long forsook his tiresome grievances. He spoke of gaining all of the so called knowledge in the world, and yet, it left him bereft of any light.

I sat in a mystifying state, gazing at the man in sorrow and pity. The rains would fall heavy from my eyes as I could not avert my gaze elsewhere in this new-found realm I've stumbled across. He sprang with life as he gorged himself on my tears. I brushed him off in utter disgust, yet rigor mortis began to take over as I came to a certain realization. Staring into this abysmal pit of a nightmare, lost in that reflecting pool of nights spent in drunken laughter, I understood that the man in front of me was none other than myself.

Pensive thought.

Theres reasons why I hold back.

It seems to flow a lot easier when I'm actually in love. But sometimes I wonder have I ever really reached to such a thing? Or was it loneliness and infatuation. In this moment, please don't reply. I just wish to speak my mind for a moment.

Speaking to another soul as if I'm teasing a conversation with myself helps my mind process things.
And conversation is where my greatest poems lie. When I'm able to bare myself to another person.
Old memory paintings and photos of the maiden covered in a sea of silken white, hair that seemed to intermingle with the trees that would dance around her near the lake.

My young self attempted to entreat her heart with a soft breath, and yet she yearned for me secretly, long before I committed to the thought of sending my hands towards her rose-water cheeks.
Stepping in and out of time, but I wonder where my body lays itself to rest, for I have long sacrificed my time towards a world far lofted from what my eye can see.
She lays hidden in the music that bathes my ears in its honey and scented oils. Her lips pressed against mine as I hear that springtime flute fly through the frigid winter air.
In these moments have I learned that it is good to love and be heartbroken than to have never loved at all. But what does one to amend his black-stoned heart?
The fear of falling into the skies causes me to lose sense of all that simply was, and is. My past has long died I'd think, but the memories surge towards me like never before. Re-learning what I've known for lifetimes.

I have not drank fully the wine of sleep in these past two days, for the spirits that watch over me have been speaking to me non-stop in the night.
There is much movement amidst their course, they open themselves fully towards my seared breast.
The scent of a woman who has arisen from her slumber into the brilliant day is likened to the scent of jasmine flowers singing praise to the glory of our Father, as he paints his tears across the  plains of this Earth.

I reminisce when winter months were meant for the times of shaping cocoons. But inside of these little holds were a vast array of good tidings. The smallest nooks were filled with the love and warmth of all those that surrounded us. Some faint memory calls my heart in this night, forcing me to stare at that distant realm. The embodiment of all that i ever held dear, holds me in some intertwining embrace like the roots of an elder oak tree, taking its firm grasp at the earth beneath its feet.

I'm lost in my own thoughts, staring at this fair maiden, draped in robes of emerald and sapphire as she commits her heart to the harp, allowing her fingers to strew forth an ancient song. The notes thereof reach the farthest aspects of my whole heart as I finally lay my head in her embrace

I'm at a point where I've been carrying a broken heart for a great distance, but I've finally reached the shores. Just to watch the sunset in peace.

To a song named "Misty".

Illicit poetry that flowed through and through me. Liquid gold that pours of my tongue when I think of misty, I get misty eyed, my head is far beyond the skies when I pierce the veil between me and the solicited wellspring of her heart. Never would I have known from the start that I'd be staring into the heavens behind her eyes.