The steam of blood is in the air. Evaporated blood, the perfect dye.
"Indeed, it's been that way for a while.
Yet, the paint is always the same.
"Yeah, and so are the painters."
Painting the scarlet moon against the sunset. The way her lips were at the moment of kiss. bloody red.
"For the right event."
Her gray stare showed me the hell that blinded her.
"It wasn't real, just fake. No passion or emotion behind her bloody kiss."
Her hands pressed against my cheeks to show me that it was all for nothing, just an empty feeling with empty actions.
She ran her soft fragile hands through my hair, that witch.
Then I backed away, she was trash* to me and in return I was nothing to her.
That was that, the end. Comments (0) |
Permalink
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Ha...
just stuck in the past
can't mess with the artifacts
can't mess with my life
can't kill my old self it's too late...
oh no i messed up the base,
the tower will fall
break and be destroyed
it's because I knew the end... Comments (0) |
Permalink
She's still alive.
When I found you, you were a fake.
An actress and princess of dismay.
Embroidery was not lacking as the symmetry was perfect.
You always had the right dye and the right things to say.
I often though about your mind and not about you.
The shadowed face caused by your covering hair protected you.
It shrouded your false expressions for symmetry was absent in your gaze.
When I found you, I was afraid that you were dead.
Poked you, but you twitched.
I feel through your color and was led away by your clever words.
I stole your style and perfected my own.
The gaze of my eyes, I took from you.
Here I am now with my art, and there forgotten you are with yours.
O' how I remember you. Comments (0) |
Permalink
Per L'eternita grazi ~ eske ~
I forget to breathe when I look into your brown eyes. I suffocate as I'm trapped inside the tomb inside your mind. There's a house there, and your soul lays inside. I'm turning blue from the lack of air but I don't mind it. I trudge up the flight of stairs that feel never-ending. I step into the far room in the corner and your soul lays there. It's cold so I cover it with a sheet. I whisper into your ear, "resa por mi," and your soul turns over to the other side. I'm contempt though and I make my way out. As I stand at the porch of your housed mind the wind carries me away like dust.
Di Angeli
Stained black with small lines as canals.
The flow of grace is red yet looks black,
broken, fallen and given up.
Spitting blood out and bleeding from the inside,
it's hard to swallow your heart again.
Your throat is throbbing and your heart
sweats red as you force it back down into your chest.
Eyes blind gray saw in color that day and you stayed.
O' she achieved what most mortals are afraid of.
Here you are drowning in your own pool of blood.
Red stained clothes as you lay on the floor,
it looks like you're melting red.
It looks like you're melting red.
The gray eyes you had once are now colored inside the lines.
The iris is red and the pupil strong black.
Thought you were eyeless didn't you?
White feathers rain on you and they land on the red pool.
Purity stricken red and here you sit looking far.
Purity stricken red and here you sit looking far.
The angels carrying you were shot down and killed.
You lay in nothing but their remains, feathers and blood. Comments (0) |
Permalink
