

The WindowThe day the sky was bloody He was stolen. I lost my brother To a house of decay, A house with blackened windows, The house filled with death's Dank glow…The Window
The moon was glowing In a sky the color of blood And milk. A window, Portal to an eternity stolen, The air reaked of decay; It drew him like a magnet, My poor sweet brother…
The house's pulse tore my brother From his foothold, and odd glow Seemed to eminate. Decay Was rampant, scents of dried blood Permeated our nostrilsand stole Away our minds, bearing


SuicideSuicideSuicide
This is a poem to no one
But to the world
Where is life and love, When there is so much pain? You know of what I speak. The endless lines and rhymes Scribbled by desperate souls Such as you, Such as I, Seeking, searching, praying For what else but freedom. But that freedom you fool
Is the illusion.
Could you ever see why?
Why pain is the chain That weighs our souls down. Why freedom is nothing more Than the walls of our prison. You may break free of none And live a simple life But I no l


my moon rageMoon keeps changing,my moon rage
In a damned bloody cycle
Changing me.. and all I say.
Words spew out.
An orgasm of hate
Pain and detest.
A new me springs forth.
Every time, every month.
The moon gets covered..
It pulls on me, all I am.
It pulls me down I become sadistic, and yet masochistic.
I hurt one person..
who happens to be my love.
Orgasms have never been pleasurable.
They’ve always left me feeling barren and plain.
Always tugging me down to my primal style of age.
wear me down, out. bloody, bruised, hateful, and vengeful.
A bitter taste is left in my mouth when I awake.
I never know what to expect as my e
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"Evolution didn't stop with us getting thumbs. There are a lot of metaphysical, spiritual, and emotional changes going on right now, and we're just trying to reflect that. We're not that different from Tori Amos" ~ Maynard James Keenan
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It's not what you see...
It's how you see it
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visit my gallery
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For a person without any forgiveness in his heart, Living is more of a punishment than death.
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visit my gallery
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For a person without any forgiveness in his heart, Living is more of a punishment than death.
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