Celestial Passion.

Your orbs twinkle
Beneath the starlight of
The glimmering Heavens.
Our knees beg for redemption,
As the kiss from your
Lustrous lips, ignites a fire
Within the loins of my fruits bliss;
Passion, unbridled, and
Unable to be subdued,
Only seduced by the hands of
A man, who’s zest is as bright as
The Gods who fall from
Heaven’s glister, crashing
Into my bodies sacred land;
Our skin, bones, and souls
Aligned, until the sky
No longer cries with celestial
Languished, tear-struck eyes.




Heartbreak was never about the other person’s absence or wrongdoings. It feels to have been more about myself, and every piece of fantastical innocence chipped away, as each chamber of my heart was sieged, day by day. It was the mourning of the beautiful girl I had once been. A youth stolen by darkness, now an eternal funeral in my tired mind. Heartbreak had always been about losing me, moment by moment, until nothing remained but a useless, heartless machine.


The Crying Cow.

It was years ago, but I remember watching a clip of a cow, and how she was taken from her farm. Her eyes were filled with tears at the thought of her being next in line to be butchered into the latest hamburger, but the man who had come for her had different intentions. At the end of the clip, she was freed and allowed to join other cows within a sanctuary. The crying cow soon turned into an ecstatic ball of joy, and in turn, tears streamed down my eyes as I witnessed paradise being given to this creature.

It made me think of all of life’s creatures. In some way or form, we have all been oppressed. We are born, adopting the notions of other men, within the ideals of a society which does not allow us to fit, with no true voice until our pain finally flares like fireworks, screaming to be free. And even then we face the grave danger of being systematically butchered back into our cages, waiting, waiting for the end. Our chances stripped from our very hands.

Many of us are this crying cow. We have no idea how to be released from such a soul mongering imprisonment. We are their product. We die just to have our voice heard. We are used up, modern day slaves to a system that simply does not suit our true nature. Some of us are aware that we are next in line, like the cow, and others are oblivious, accepting of their fate, accepting of the ways in which they have no place to create.

I want to end up in my paradise, frolicking and playing with the other free creatures, just like that beautiful, crying cow.

I can only imagine how beautifully she must have felt in that very moment of pure freedom and bliss.

I want to live like that too.


It always comes.
The spiraling downwards,
The crash from the rush.
A high so divine,
You beg time to grant you
An eternal lifetime of
This sublime existence.
Until the vortex begins
It’s inevitable decision.
Moonstruck soul,
The whirlpool of atonement
A faux;
Never again this ethereal
Dancing bliss will
Be held at your fingertips.


My Quasar.

Your delectable taste is as
The fruitful flavors of Heaven,
A tangy sweetness which
Uplifts my weary soul into a
Quasar’s lustrous oblivion,
Even as the darkness still
Grippingly shrouds over me so.

Infinite Ice Age.

Beside the fireplace, you and I embraced,
Your mouth breathing hard against my neck,
As we danced in rhythm with the flames.
Your face was as cold as always;
An infinite ice age, timeless,
My breath salient only alongside you.
I took comfort in knowing I warmed
Your discernible emptiness,
It fueled a natural instinct to love you.
Abruptly! My memories dwindled,
Your hiss signaling something amiss,
And fangs as piercing as icicles ruptured my skin.
I remember the last thing, after
Feeling my body impulsively struggle to still win:
My body frigid and limp underneath your favorite
Blood-stained candelabra’s dim.



Lifeless as I lie alive on this bed,
Breathing as I’m conscious but eternally sleeping,
Battling the exterior illusions,
As I fight deeply to pull out the war waged inside my soul.

I curse whatever god may be,
Only to realize that the only god that be is within me,
Yet constantly I hold hands with the demons which crawl deep beneath my skin,
Whispering that I have no good spirit inside of me.

I listen blindly, faithfully,
But my heart fights those battles endlessly,
Leading me in and out, in and out,
Never allowing me the purity of peace – good or evil…