From the look in your eyes to the song that plays in my head, I cannot help but shed a tear, for there has never been anything more beautiful.
Whereas my heart has grown cold, it too has softened, what was once frozen is now thawed by the simplest of circumstance.
My vital organ sure as hell doesn’t bleed for the same things, but the Devil knows it beats for you.

I cannot recall a time when such simplicity took the breath out of my lungs, a miraculous feat considering the state of our atmosphere.
The harshness that divides shall now be brought together by the beauty and astonishing grace of a brand new movement, one of the neuromantic kind.
While other hearts grow all the colder still, I know that mine shall only burn brighter from the subtle spectacles that surround us, never ceasing to amaze. 

Let this whole world dissolve into itself for this love of ours will prevail throughout the insanity, as it has now and forever.

We’ll make it through to the bitter end. 

© Copyright March 2017/April 2017



You are no longer the shadow that hangs over me, mocking me with its insistence, with its mere presence, its torment.
You are no longer the cause of my pain, no more do you haunt me with sleepless nights and greet me with overslept afternoons, like something of a plague. 

I no longer fear what you have in store for me, no longer do I dread any and all anticipations that Lucifer knew you would ruin. 

You are no longer something that fills me with apprehension, for my worrisome ways are now placed elsewhere, hopefully to where they rightfully belong.
You are no longer something that I cannot eradicate, for my newfound power in the face of your possession, stronger than I’ve ever seen it, cannot be stopped. 

I no longer fear what it is I cannot control, no longer filled with dread at the very thought, for there is no greater control than being able to surrender. 

© Copyright February 2017 


I came upon you like the chill of November, sending us into a head-on collision not even I could have predicted.
Slipping on through the night, on the edge of a darkness so foreign, we find ourselves alone with the ominous light of the moon.
Overcome are we with a desire so intoxicating, so overwhelming in it’s romantic simplicity, that it would be a sin to squander it’s advances. 

Trembling is the flesh in the face of an even greater sin, giving into the impassioned lust, the forbidden love that shall soon eclipse any other form of pleasure ever created.
The moonlight that I have adored my whole adult life illuminates our skin in its semi-eternal glow, an illumination that will no doubt further beautify the brightness of our shared lashes. 

We came creeping into the night and we shall leave this life screaming, for we will never go quietly.
Not in this life or the Hell that shall befall our souls upon death, for this type of anarchy is immortal, with no prospect of slowing down for anyone, not even the Devil himself. 

You appeal ever further to the darkness that resides in my soul. 

© Copyright September 2016/January 2017


Breathe into me for I cannot draw another breath.
The memory of you that I’ve held so dear, the memory of everything you were in the end, pulls me close to shore, although I know I’ll never make it.
The tide is coming in, engulfing me in yet another wave, and I am again reminded that this is only still a memory, a clever trick played by my brain because I cannot come to grips with the person you became towards your demise. 

Stretch your skin across my bones for I cannot feel a thing.
The morphine shot through my hollow vein prevents me from feeling the fallout of my lost organ (stolen and probably set into oblivion) but that doesn’t mean I want to turn numb to everything else.
In fact, I know that I feel far too much, that my capacity to understand another’s sorrow is almost overflowing and my repulsion for the actions of others isn’t far behind. 

Break my heart and shatter what’s left of it into a million shards for I cannot bear another day without you.
The lies you feed me, the undeniable cunning of your ways, don’t change the fact that I have loved you from the first time our eyes met, my vulnerability and naïveté were not without consequence.
The very sight of you, in all your magnificent brilliance, made my heart stop beating (if only just for a moment) and I know, my dear, that it has never quite beat the same way since. 

Captivate and enthrall me until the end of my days (only to follow me straight down to Hell) for I will never be immune to your charms. 

You, my love, are the only reason I have for living, far greater than just living for breathing’s sake.
The best reason to ever cross my lips. 

© Copyright December 2016/January 2017


If I hadn’t found you, would I still be the same? 

If you hadn’t come crashing into my life like a brutal albeit welcoming storm, would I still process the world around me in the same light?
If I hadn’t heard of your beauty, your sensuous words and all they represent, would I still see and feel love in its sacred warmth?

If I hadn’t flipped through your pages, taken your text to memory, sought you out for countless months, would I still be able to touch your paperback grandeur with the same appreciation?
If you hadn’t circulated throughout every inch of me, breeding your disease in my veins, making your way to the pit of my stomach where you so righteously reside, would I still feel pain with a sadistic respect? 

If you hadn’t found me, would I still be the same? 

© Copyright November 2016/December 2016

Ninth Circle (A Half Acre Of Hell) 

It’s the feeling of being set on ice, the deep muscle pain where it’s impossible to think that you can sink any lower.
My head pounds uncontrollably, and I can feel my breath start to slow, as if fresh oxygen has just broken through my lungs for the very first time.
Every nerve feels oh so fragile, as if at any moment, with any sudden movement, they’ll shatter into a million pieces, disconnecting this being and everything it stands for. 

That strange, almost sensual sensation of strangulation grips my throat, leaving an ominous tightening in my chest, but there is no pleasure in its dominance.
Instead of that kind of high, a type of rush only that act in question can provide, I feel a sense of dread, an urgency for a relief that mocks me so, one that I cannot seem to find.
Upon reaching a much needed albeit temporary moment of calm, my entire body collides with a numbness so sweet, a short-lived warmth until I feel the cold come crashing back.

My body set on ice, while my blood burns bright with a stunning rage, is how you’ve left me, my dear.
I descend into that dreaded ninth circle by your hand, an aspect of Hell that was only once imagined, never actually felt. 
Encapsulated in that same icy bath, my aching nerves, my skin set ablaze from the precision and elegance of your blade, is how you’ve left me, my love.
I fall into a half acre of Hell because of your touch, one that I will gladly dredge through to find you for the chemistry that inhabits our beings is something of destiny. 

And this is how our love story begins.

© Copyright November 2016


I want to live in a place where thinking never goes out of style.
Where the pen and paper are made to create and defy, inspire what was never thought possible.
Your conscience is a black hole, mine is an open book.
Spill out the contains of my heart and watch an ocean of never-ending thoughts and theories cover the floor. 

Engulf yourself in the flames of your own ignorance as I smolder in the heat of my triumph.
I want to live in a place where thinking never goes out of style.
Emerging from the ashes with a fervor so strong it reignites the souls of those in the deepest depth of Hell.
I want to live in a place that’s ready for something new. 

A world oh so very strange. 

© Copyright July 2011/November 2016