My Gothic Heart Afire In My Teary Sea

My Gothic heart burning 

in the sea of tears within.  

Wrapped in thorny vines, dangling 

by a thread from the surface.

The teary waves above in my eyes are

turbulent and the emotional winds lashing.

My Gothic fire, my tears of high emotion,

my crimson shine reddens this teary sea.

As if teary wax of blood seep

from the flames of my eyes! 

Then they dry to a still on my face,

and all the haunting memories are visible.

My Gothic nature, 

this forest that is my mind,

with skeleton-like trees, 

pathless so any visitor 

aimlessly drifts on within

my paradoxical juxtapositions.

My Gothic soul afire, 

my eyelids snap open,

and my burning soul screams

through these blue eyes,

eyes where the tears now boil!

And in death the steam of my soul rises!

Rising, my darkly romantic soul does,

into the dark thunderclouds above,

where sunlight cannot penetrate, 

so, below the storm, I burn in a teary sea.

Without beams of light from the heavens

to bathe me, I put my trust in the darkness!

Once more into the light of my darkness,

where the heavens and hell grasp hands,

in order for I, Daniel Long, to cross

between them at my own will,

to deliver my words,

prophetically!

And prophetic, indeed!

“Make anything you write

so goddamn prophetic!”

A fellow writer once told me.

And I follow that advice

through emotional flame and teary sea!