Die Dunkelheit, unsere schlupfwinkel.

Die Dunkelheit, unsere schlupfwinkel. (the darkness, our sanctuary). (work in progress PLEASE LEAVE REVIEWS NOT JUST RATINGS)

Nostalgia for days I kissed your marble pure white shoulders
empty hours of mockery and that aching deceitful enunciation;
The wait on the crag, sunset on an azimuth by dark boulders;
but
feeling as I pushed...
and your face screaming upon descension...

And I felt little. Seldom do thoughts of the sepulchre tread on the barren mire of my emotions.



I miss the vanity from owning you and the miserable times;
Your silhouette above, your claws slowly creeping into my chest;
When I said would endure oblivion With you and such trivial lines
but
I saw your soul…
and within your eyes, I decided to divest…

And I felt little. When you do cross my macabre mind I tend to brake into a blissful toothy smile.

I lust for the theatre of the drama of your disturbed desperation;
blank and hollow sunken eyes drawn charcoal, corpse like jowl;
instant nonchalant your halcyon suicidal ideation;
but
You were a heathen…
Nomore. Hitting the rocks you gave such a howl…

And I felt little. Euphoria is associated with your unwarranted death, and I am complete, feel no jealousy at night as I see the sea drag at you.


I mourn for the nights, we sutured another, you and I painted;
We enacted plays, I was silent as a mine, a Harlequin;
It was reverie, succubus and incubus so close I once fainted;
And
have nothing to say,
Now im bloody filthy, I know where I‘ve been.

And i feel nothing.