Immaculate

Iridescent black hole

What the hell could I say to you
That would illustrate the basest feeling
I hold in your regard?
I try to map out the perfect explanation,
Fit all the pieces together to make a whole
That is beautiful and moving,
Like a sweeping score that crescendos
Until the emotive climax that sends you to tears;
But every time I dare to utter a word,
The breath escapes my lungs
And I choke,
As though my subconscious recognizes
That to speak of you so inadequately
Is sheer sacrilege,
Because you are beyond labeling or possessing.
The immaculacy of your bravura
Devolves me into a nervous fit—
Worse each time than before—
For you are worthy of nothing less than unadulterated pleasure
And gifts even a monarch wouldn’t inherit;
But for all my posturing,
I am not the embodiment of grace or sanctity you are merited,
And to be anything less is to be undeserving of your majesty.

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Black Magick and Condemnations

Fury

I know your dirty little secret,
If it can even be called that,
Since you’re a piss-poor liar—
Or you just didn’t try to hide it.
And I don’t know what’s more insulting:
The act itself;
Or the implication of my stupidity,
As though I would sit with a sewn mouth
And open legs,
Acting as a husk for you to fuck
Whenever your extracurriculars grow stale,
And being the archetype of your normalcy,
The trophy of your Christian life.
But I’m not your American Dream,
Your something old
In between your somethings new,
Your somethings borrowed,
And I sure as hell won’t let you
Beat my soul into your something blue.
You’ve already taken more than you deserve,
So I won’t even give you what you’re owed;
Instead, I’ll just immortalize you
In words you can’t erase,
In sentiments you can’t vanquish,
And enchantments you can’t dispel;
My justice will be exacted
In black magick and condemnation,
And you will realize all too late
That you are accursed, exiled as you are
From the presence of God.

The Bride Even the Devil Divorced

black_eyes_by_kkcav-d3m9gcj

There is nothing sexy about your rage—
The infernal vengeance
You would reap upon those who have wronged you,
Borne you into this world,
Or stood in your presence
Instead of kneeling before your majesty;
So excuse me if I recuse myself
From your infallible presence
Or shiver when your skin meets mine.
I do not require your pardon
And do not crave your presence,
Radiating arrogance with each step,
Every flinch, every syllable spoken,
Causing me to retch my heart out
Whenever I have to inhale your noxious aura.
Your touch is like a snake bite,
The venom entering my bloodstream like a virus
And working its way to my heart;
Even worse when you try to fuck me—
The moments where I’d sooner die,
Except I would die in your arms,
And that is a fate worse than hell.

Hyddeous

grain shadow

I crave destruction;
It’s not some romanticized fiction
Or noble venture brimming with sentiment.
Because of everything that’s conspired against me—
Governments, family, a chastised world—
I pine for the end.
Within this sanctuary I have etched
There exists no morality,
Only a rage beget by injustice;
And on this altar of ire
I sacrifice in no one’s name,
Because sacrifice—
The artistic method of suffering—
Needs no purpose beyond its own existence.
With that hideous strength I wield,
Surprising even to myself,
I cast dominion over the puerile
And advance my personal army
Until grass turns to dirt under boot.
Even should there be no nation left to conquer
I will wage war still,
Whether upon myself or the gods above,
To prove my own liberation
From all but bloodlust,
A carnal craving for penance,
An unyielding covet for destruction.

Groom of Eris

Death skeleton

“This isn’t real,” the voice says,
Whispering through the ether of darkness:
A black void that occupies my mind.
It is without form this voice speaks,
No consciousness but my own
To sustain its malevolence,
Subsisting entirely on my paranoia
Because I don’t know how to exist
Free of the anxiety born from my insecurity.
Would I slay this love before it even flourishes
Because of the ramblings of a nonexistent madman?
Reality has offered nothing but assurance
And a smile now etched into my memory,
But I would lay waste to it within the fabrication
Of the personal hell that resides inside my mental bastille,
And shout aspersions into the vacuum of space
To mollify the injustice of this war I wage
On the innocents I intend to sacrifice
To this god of death and despair
Who rules my perverse dominion with a pale hand.
While in rationality I accept
Every word I hear is insanity—
A plea from a deity losing his power—
I still listen when he says, “This will never last.”
And god help me, I’m beginning to believe it.

Choking on Plastic

breaking_free_by_elaine10

Art by Elaine10

I gave up on you forever ago.
It’s an unspoken casualty
Of this pageant we celebrate everlasting.
This ritual you perform
To keep me bound in purgatory
Long ago lost its charm;
And with all the spite and calumny you can imagine,
I broke your spell so I may roam free.
Like a fish caught on the line,
If you don’t reel it in it will escape,
And with an ocean vast and deep,
I can take shelter where you will never find me.
It’s not that I bid you ill will
Or even suffer you your hubris;
It’s merely that dancing with you
Amid your fires of jealousy and vanity
Is like choking on plastic discarded from your life—
The waste not even worth your effort.
And while I swore to all gods
To pull you from the darkness in which you dwell,
Introducing you to the light of fulfillment,
I can only stretch my hand so far
When you won’t lift yours to meet mine.

Shadow in the Ubiquitous Light

Shadow angel

A shadow in the Ubiquitous Light—
Luminiferous immemorial.
But where I once stood wide-eyed
My eyes now contract,
Unfamiliar with the purging brightness.

A shadow in the Ubiquitous Light,
Shifting dubiously—not without shame—
For this light that once consoled
Is now foreign in this dark mind;
For profligacy abounds unrestrained.

A shadow in the Ubiquitous Light
Forgets all peace of mind,
Constrained by the throes of transience,
With each intermittence growing in pain
As hollow tears threaten these lungs.

Wafting through trails of memories long past,
Turning my head from piercing eyes;
Woe if they should contrive the truth:
That I am the lost and wandering—
A shadow in the Ubiquitous Light.

I, Your Walking Plaything

masseffect3husk

I could hear the truth in your words
Even as you vomited your adulation
All over my ego:
You didn’t want my spirit,
My mind,
Or my critique;
You only desired my attention
And any pleasures I could manage.
You’d have me as a husk,
Lifeless but moving, serving one purpose;
And you, my geth, to mold me as your creation.
Though I would retain vital functions,
Beneath the flesh, I would be your comfort zone,
Your ego booster, telling you what you want to hear,
Rattling off automated garbage
Programmed to satisfy your every whim.
I would not be human, with individuality
Or a will apart from yours;
In essence, I would be your walking plaything,
Here only to fuck and to lie
Until my batteries died,
Because you’re too cheap to buy me new ones.

You Will Never be Janne Olsson

woman_in_the_dark_by_darkcristal

Artwork by Darkcristal

When will your apocalypse arrive?
I await the day you breathe your last,
Counting the days with the links of this chain
You have bound me with
To keep me in your sight,
Bent to your will,
And obeisant to your whims.
You are a savage,
Butchering my esteem with your words,
Sharper than the blade of an axe,
Splitting my sanity in two,
And preying on the fringes
Until you infect my thoughts like a parasite,
Forcing me to question everything I am
And everything I’m worth.
You’re an emotional vampire,
Sucking the life out of my soul
So that I am left a husk,
Numb to feeling except despair.
I pray that each teardrop from my eyes
Is a sin you must atone for,
And that you will drown in their acrimony
For the punishment you have sentenced me to
For daring to stand on my feet.
You have kept me frozen here
So that I cannot move forward,
Cannot break free of your tyranny,
Because my misery is the last sliver of joy you have;
But on that day—your apocalypse—
I will finally take my first step forward
And leave you to memory,
Insignificant to history,
Unknown to the world,
And forgotten by me.

Rivers

river_of_blood_iii

I was never yours,
And you were never mine.
Why, then, does it feel
Like I’ve lost something wonderful?
From every angle of this pentagram
We never intersected,
Never touched,
But I could swear to any god
I knew you, I felt you, I breathed you.
I carve scars into my flesh
And then cry tears into them,
Making little rivers to gaze upon
And capture my reflection,
Because I have none to cleanse myself in
To sweep me away in their currents,
Or erode the dirt from my skin;
But these rivers are filled with blood
And flood over from this deluge
I pour into them.
In the end, I am horrid and wounded,
Just the way, I think, you always saw me,
Never looking past the flesh
To see any strength within
Or any redemption behind my ghastly face.
So I make these rivers to overflow
Until, one day, they drown me,
And maybe erode the dirt at the surface
To bare what’s left of my soul beneath.