Haunted Lunacy Poetry

His hands trembling, the poet  stares at the page. Fear grips his mind,   anxiety is his cage. No words to say,  no prose to write,  Just shadows that whisper  sweet nightmares At night. His pen hovers  above  the paper, But the ink does not flow.  His thoughts are too dark, For the whole world to know. Should he compose the delphic  lyrics, that his madness provides? Or lay down his pen, and trap  them inside. He sits and he ponders if he  should put down his pen, And leave the page blank,  not stained with his sin. The ink remains silent,  his words kept within. The poet rises from his desk, And puts down his pen.

You earned your wings  and flew away, Never to return. Now I know you  were a lesson, My heart was meant  to learn.  Soon I know  there will  be another , Who  is charmed  by all your wrath , But all too soon,  he too will be broken, In your aftermath.

They’re in the woods, waiting, watching. Beckoning to me with  empty words that float  upon the wind.  calling me to free my  soul, and dwell among  the trees.

Out amongst the wildflowers, Where our love once grew. The shadows lurked behind  the grass, That’s when I first met you, Trampling them underfoot. Dying in the dew.

He lit a candle,mourning  a love that had gone wrong. She was never who she  claimed to be, He knew it all along. An angel she was, he  knew it all too well. Little did he know, that  angel was from hell. Eyes that lit up the room,  but fire was the source. She set his little world  ablaze, and never felt  remorse. The angels wings  soon released, And she flew away. Leaving him with  a burning candle , For the devil he met that day.

The lunatic dances to  the sweet words of   madness, a symphony   of terror, delight and decay.  He dances a dance  of delirium, and sways  to the sweet, terrible hymn. 

Desire the ache. / Poison reflection of me. / Mirror see’s no more.

The muse whispering / hunger for the poison soul / dying quiet sighs 

Lips that speak sweet words / haunting eyes that do betray / silence is solace

Head upon my pillow, My eyes still wide awake. Comforting madness  holds me tightly , Anxiety’s sweet kiss. Within the darkness, A shape draws near. Insanity’s reflection, My crippling fear. Could it be a mirror? My demons trapped inside. Maybe it’s just me, Trembling on the other side. Sheets drenched in sweat, My head filled with screams. Madness lurks beneath my skin, It visits me in my dreams. Soon I hope to slumber, And face myself no more . A prisoner beneath my blankets , My mind and heart at war. So now I close my weary eyes, And hope that I can sleep. Tomorrow is another day, My demons have yet to reap.

She is made of butterflies,madness, And haunted things. An aphotic masterpiece, My odious desire. She’s the torment that I miss the most, My heart bedeviled  by her ghost. Butterflies are haunted  things, They seek to devour  and flutter their wings .

She is a poem written on my heart, And recited in my soul. A muse dressed in madness, melancholy, and mourning. Her lips whisper quiet words of haunting adulation. To inspire this poets pen To write this poison verse. So grim the elegy  that stains this page, with ink of trepidation. This troubadour’s hand  forever bound, by the seduction of  her maddening prose.

She smiled and his demons trembled. She spoke and they did obey . In his eyes she was a beautiful angel , But really the devil had come to play . She pulled the strings and the  demons danced,  They spin and twirl at  her command. They rip and tear and  destroy him inside,  With every movement of her hand. He grew ensnared within her strings, His beautiful,  chaotic, disaster.  His demons trembled for they feared her.  She was now their master.

Her heart was as cold as  the moon on the darkest  winter night .  Her breath escaped  her lips like the souls  of the damned leaving their tomb . Her eyes so beautiful  and brown like the   leaves on a fall day. They hold my heart  prisoner with their gaze , My head so lost in swoon. Her touch is as hot  as the summer sun,  As she caresses  my trembling skin. Her scent as beautiful  as springtime, Her words  as beautiful as sin.   The love it soon  will leave her face, And her lips  begin to part. Revealing all the  sharpened teeth, That she will sink  into my heart.