Beams:/by Haunted Lunacy

-
She bewitched the moon,
and bid it’s beams drive
me mad.
Yes madness!
that 3am demon that tickles
the brain, a desperate longing
to be kissed so deeply by her 
screams, but alas, only silence
rides those beams, those beams
In which my very madness 
chooses to dwell, every particle 
of light so carefully chosen, 
chosen to taunt me with the very 
essence of her spell.
Is she a witch? Is she a devil? No! 
I think not, for even they could feel
compassion for this tortured soul.
So I pace this room, and with tears 
I ponder, what is this madness that 
shines through that window yonder? 
Who’s beams encroach upon my 
skin, possessing the flesh
and igniting my sin, driving this 
weary soul to embrace the ghost, 
and succumb to the silence I fear 
the most.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Lunatic ideas not finished or in order

-
The lunatic dances to the sweet words of madness, a symphony of terror, delight and decay. Madness is the daily struggle of not becoming someone else no matter how sweet the words they whisper. The lunatic wants to dance but the stage he must never see. The lunatic lingers silently in his cell, pondering, waiting, anticipating the moment the door will open and he will be free. Free to lace up his shoes and take the stage.  to dance the dance of madness, to sway to the beautiful symphony of lunacy, to embrace the whispers of sweet dilusion.  locking away the host of the show in the cell that he himself once called home.  to take center stage forevermore. The host sits silently in his cell, he hears the music, he hears the elegant footsteps of madness as he put prances upon the stage. A stage that was once his.  I started this show he thinks in his head.  but all this time little did I know I was merely the opening act. Lunacy now owns the stage and I shall fa...
Read more

Cupid Smiled/by:Haunted Lunacy

-
Cupid smiled as he drew back his bow, he felt the weight of the string on his fingers and a stirring in his soul. He wept for the target for which his arrow  was intended,  for he knew that once it pierced their heart   that it could not be mended.  So with a sigh he let it go, and the arrow it did fly, and as the arrow pierced his chest,  an angel caught his eye.  With a broken halo and tattered wings  the angel did pretend, to love his empty,  hollow soul, and always be his friend, but soon the angel bared her teeth  and devoured this man’s heart,  and to her hell she did return  to brag about her art.  Now alone, the broken man, in silence  he did scream “oh god please wake me  up from this horrid dream”, but his ears  were only met with silence, for his  god did not reply. So he picked up his  pen and wrote this poem as his   soul did slowly die. Cupid put his bow   away, hi...
Read more