the-upward-glance

     It felt peculiar standing before him, now, almost as strangers–strangers with one horrible, tragic secret between them that abashes any sense of pure anonymity. The paths of time seem so impossible to cross until you stand on the other side. We knew each other, and yet did not. I suppose I'm being a bit overdramatic, but when you offer someone your love, only to have it all but reviled, it really does feel like the end of the world; especially when that love conspires against the norm.     I made the mistake of falling for my best friend. Of course in the complete cliché fashion, I didn't realize it for t

Poised perilously upon the cliffs of his knees, he ingests male pride. Midnight lullabies cleave to his cavernous throat, and bring forth the dawn. Lay beneath this nymph your sins, your sadness, your flesh; he makes right from wrong. One's foul prostitute, is a venerated saint to any other. Judge not lest ye be, bury deep unwieldy need; he loves his brothers. Married to every attention and every pore, I strike out–alone– down life's road as though nothing has changed. Summer evenings lather bodies with sweat, obscene, and memories with fallacy. Sin's serenade; it rides a sour wind through the door I never

I walked Her streets alone in a multitudinous sea, as though they were mine. I claimed this empire in the name– and to Her I shall return, triumphant, thirsting. Glorious pride, I need not name thy proper seat, as thou dost swell within my breast with both precision and perfection. Let me extol instead thy sole, and earthly kingdom, that radiant, sprawling temple which utterly befits Man. Of his own design, in his own image, the towers that rise pay tribute to existentia absoluta, and the power imbued in he who recognizes it. Fall not to thy knees, my brothers! A spine resplendently straight, a chin tilted to

Strangling myself with this silence, I am one rung closer– with every little death descending deeper into Gehenna's bowels, brandishing a soul through drawn eyes and watching it all burn. A plea for deliverance stretches thin over this thrust my masochist thirst insists. If asphyxia is Heaven, my throat is the horizon. You can't sever midnight sky from sea, the black from the blue. Rolling back on my spine serpentine grande, I at last experience revelation. To dream in grayscale and melancholy is to never suffer disappointment at the hands of Life's disastrous folly. I feast upon the fruit of despair– its

Hush; listen to the sicklied wind as it hisses though withered wheat and mouldering thistle. Fallowed ground; how it demands tribute, and how I long to fulfill its wish. Heartbeats betray unguarded flesh, invite disaster upon their keeper. Make no sound, sweet sunlit Childe, for myself I trust not in thy presence. In this darkness, in this forest of my hatred, thou shall not escape.   No nightingales or mockingbirds sing their idle songs. Only the canticles of the raven– forever blackened and forlorn– raise on up heavenward to a sky preparatively aflame. Ashen clouds roll in uneasily, a chur

Thy probing tongue–so rosy, succulent, and disarmingly sour, in every way resembles ripened grapefruit meat: quenching thirst, spurning it indefatigably. Yet, thine colors were never true, and along that fit, muscled spear, lines of silver equalled only by the Moon wound seamlessly through. Promises sway virgin breasts as surely as wind shakes dry wheat; and mine own fell low–leagues and leagues beneath the sea. Rape loses its felonious sting most rapidly when one bends volitionally, and with ease.   Creamy skin, taut limbs, and a crown of silken gold: how thy beauty assailed me! upon such a glorious c

What strange creatures doth prowl through twilight alleyways, as the moon gleams and snarls, rousing from sacred slumber all those impulses forged when man was new-born still–primeval. Proceeding advent of morals, law, and god, there was but one axiomatic creed: "Kill or be killed, take what thou needs." And this wayward beast, lacking all conscience and custom, longs to coat his fangs in blood, not to mention his steel. Beneath undulating mantle, overgenerous coat, he conceals his secrets, indecent and mean. One would be loathe to find his gelatinous mind, having lost the race of the range-of-the-moment. It comp

Draw me close to thy Elysian folds, breathe new life into my dying eyes. This meteoric and wretched Fall of mine, far beyond measure of distance or of time, hath left me no comfort but the cold, and my skin—that once resembled ivory most fair— swathed in contumelious singe. Prematurely entombed into Kingdom of Abyss, laying twisted, woeful, and maimed, I call with voice straining in vain to gain a long-lost cadence. Lo! what prize such lowly efforts find, as I am blinded by brilliance without bound. The saturnine clouds in which my mind had drowned part like seas before an Anointed Prophet's hand. What perfe