she. “Enemy Spirits, Come to finish my fate Nothing you do Can cause me to dissipate I am forever I am EVER, For and Ever I am Always, Now and Then I am of the gods My gods, your gods and theirs Make mincemeat of your decisions Deal you heartbreak, make u have care She’s… Read More she.

the use for veils.

  Up a staircase Winding round I say nothing Eyes Wide Down Powdered footsteps Open like gravel road U say nothing No breaking the moment’s hold Asbestos powdercase Eyelashes by Mold We touch fingertips Sudden. Bold. Crunchy black taffeta Shiny Patent Waste Bodies; barely bent! Still not visible-Our Haste In & Out, Up & Down… Read More the use for veils.


I want your blood Like I want your sex I wish we’d fuck Like we never met I want your taste Copper-burnt but sweet I want your brains Tongue inside your meat Spread it ‘round like goo Dripping from the tip Lap it up, all fours! Yeah I am that bitch This is not for… Read More bloodlust.

Private Life

In the Darkness of beginning night, The confusion of what should be, I gave him my little black heart, Then I gave him my little jewel; perfection like one from Tiffanys! When alone now, I can hear his voice When alone I can feel his touch His perfume comes out of my throat His decorum… Read More Private Life

Les Amants des Morte

*disclaimer – naughty words and heavy sexual connotation; also, an original poem from me to an ex lover* Everytime we fuck, I die, Lovers of Death, you and I Make-believers in fate, you and me Troublemakers connected; destiny! Little Death, Oxycontin, Dopamine When together, even the Heavens stop for our scene, Memnoch the Devil, Dionysis… Read More Les Amants des Morte


  I’m in a phenomenal place There is no sound, no feeling, no smell or taste It is the Darkness~the Soulless Pit, the Abyss! How could you not know, however could it be missed? This is the reality, finalized and discovered~You know me, now! This is the Darkness, the place where nightmares play, unbound This… Read More ~Untitled~


Originally posted on Iain Kelly:
He had been waiting an eternity for a glimpse of the almost mythical creature that lived in the mountains in Asia. Seeing it on film was one thing, the chance to see one alive was something else. And time was running out – this old male was the last one…


Originally posted on ||||||||||||||||||||:
I’ve come to a point in my life where thoughts are a burden. I think a lot about the passage of time. About what ‘forever’ truly means. Honestly, it scares me. It terrifies me. I don’t believe we stop existing when our bodies die. I’ve never believed that, but at the same…

Why Do Writers Write?

Originally posted on Alien Scribe:
Why do writers write? Here’s an interesting answer by Charles Bukowski. While I don’t agree with every line I do identify with most of the piece and keep the poem displayed on my refrigerator at home. He’s been called “the human embodiment of a raised middle finger.” Bukowski wore his…

Love Forged By Masters

Originally posted on Ward Clever:
Stoke the fires Strike the heart while it’s hot Forge fleeting fantasies Melt away the misery Smoke trails linger Like caresses from your fingertips Awaken my soul Searching while the fire is lit Temper slowly The heat that bends Strengthening our love Sharpening pleasures Plunge into cooling waters Passion sizzles…