If I dared write
what’s in my heart,
what’s on my mind,
what drives me on,
I’d attract ants,
and bring bees
to the smell...
I see you, not as words —
not a single quote
or chapter — but as
an unfolding story.
And I love reading the story
that you are —...
"I want to be a writer…"
she said, her solemn
six year old eyes
trained upon the
rumpled by life writer.
"But you can do...
Fractals in the pathos
True religion fractured
The wisest men grey most
And with the wingspan of some pterodactyl
We’re too afraid to stay...
Bound in leather dyed in midnight,
A wax seal upon it’s cover,
Red, and once can’t help but think,
It might be made from blood.
Inside, sprawled out through symbols,
Writen through languages that span the globe,
Knowledge and power is contained,
It does not let one overthrow nations,
But overthrow people,
Their hearts and minds enchained to you,
Or allows you to call,
Those who can bring you that power.
We contain our sins, vices, and dark wants behind a lock,
And it is an ink and paper skeleton key,
And draw out every lust,
To stain one’s mind black,
To help tie in the puppet strings,
That let’s them be pulled about by you,
And gives you the power we all crave.
A book transcribed by the damned,
A book authored by demons,
To give the human Desire form,
For even the demons know that nothing is more sinister,
Than what lies in the hearts of man.