My lips are pink.My hood is red.And though I knowthe roads are safe by day,I walk the night instead. Through mossy moor and meadow creek,beneath the moon, I hear you speak.Your golden eyes like beacons senda welcome glow I comprehend. By...

If suicide had eyes,it would possess a paralyzing stare.If suicide had a face,it’s ugliness would vacuum the air from my body.If suicide had hands,it would would lay its cold claws on me.If suicide had a tongue,it would lash the...

Sunlit passion in the moonlit heart chamber,your embers thaw my hot-blooded glacier.You are my sun of the night sky.I, your moon-glow – you, my sun-shine.Twas’ a full moonand all through the night-sky not a star was winking –cast out...

Dear psychosis, Lowly your voice howlsWithin the wintry confines of my mind.Now is the winterOf my discontent.I feel your veilover my eyes thickening.What is reality? I reach for it,But with broken hands,I can no longer grasp.And now as the veil...

How thenam I to mention theprocess of molting withoutelaborating my own desecrationwithout describing the evaporationof my divine inner plumageinside this stillwaterstorm of sunshinethe truth of light banishesmy bright gleaming feathersbeneath the blaze of her warm summer raysmy decimated colors...