In my eyes there is no other
You are perfect as open'd veins
In my eyes I see no other
You inspire the ugliest things

Lift me with your lifeless form
Drag me through Love's excrement
Caress me with cruell claws
Bless my pen with dreams and lies
Let me hold you in my sleep
Let me wake and damn this art

Ev'ry word bleeds from me
Just like a thousand wars
They aren't all beautifull

See through my eyes, poetry
Gouge my eyes with thorns
Breathe through my lungs, softly
I will breathe sea-water soon

Creation isn't beautifull
You inspire the ugliest things

I am a swan's wing, bloodied at the joint
and pasted to a boy's back, like in that story
You waved to me from a mountain as I slipped away
Dimming into rust-lit winters with a burning apple branch.

Who are you that darkness my shade? You burned my door down.
Don't wait for me, because you're a liar
And each time you dream in colour, I'll be holding your head under
Who took my time away? I know you'll hear me now
I know you'll hear me now...You missed your way out!

I thought I had it all
When I was left in shame, I gained even more!
You will welter on your hurried path with me as a prince to the world
All the beauty that is all of Life shall walk with me,
And you shall walk alone...in shame!

Dry as a bone withered and cold stuck with a dagger again behold me for I am centuries old cut on the lips by secretive men
terror I watch you nervous slowly insert the dagger again twisting the furnace walls gripping my breast writhing in want
smothered within your heavenly haunt cut on the lips by secretive men slowly insert the dagger again.

Portitor has horrendus aquas et flumina servat
terribili squalore Charon, cui plurima mento
canities inculta jacet, stant lumina flamma,
sordidus ex umeris nodo dependet amictus

Ibant obscuri sola sub nocte per umbram
perque domos Ditis vacuas et inania regna
quale per incertam lunam sub luce maligna
est eiter in silvis, ubi caelum condidit umbra
Juppiter, et rebus nox abstulit atra colorem

"Sic demum lucos Stygis et regna invia vivis aspicies..."
"Anchisa generate deum certissimia proles,
Cocyti stagna alta vides Stygiamque paludem.
di cujus jurare timent et fallere numen."

Nec plura his. Ille admirans venerabile donum
fatalis virgae longo post tempore visum
caeruleam advertit puppim ripaeque propinquat.

Watching over these waves and streams of filth is the
horrible ferryman Charon, on whose chin countless unkept
grey hairs lie outspread; his eyes endure in flame, and
a squalid cloak hangs knotted from his shoulders.

Beneath lonely darkness the gloomy travellers go through shadow
and through the deserted abodes and ghostly kingdom of Dis:
through uncertain moonlight under rays of a spiteful sort the way
lies in the woods, where Jupiter hides the sky in shadow and
night steals colour from the black heavens.

"In this manner you will at last behold the sacred grove of Styx
and the kingdom pathless to the living..."
"Child of Anchises, most certain prodigy of a god, you will see
the deep mere of the mournful river of Hades and the swamp of
Styx, whose divine power the gods fear to swear by and prove false."

Nothing more was said. Wondering at the venerable offering of the
fated branch, seen after a distant time, he turned the vessel to
the darkness and the shores approached.

When you were a baby, I told you that beauty came from the sea.
Now when you touch me between the eyes, I say, "Why?"
I never lie, but you won't believe I could make everyone so happy,
I could make everything beautiful, like you.
Clean, forever, just like
you.

I squandered my youth for a wither'd (bitter) hour;
All I ever wanted was a simple you.
Real love is dying for a phantasy.

I held all of Heaven dead in my arms,
And in one moment, I knew all of Hell.

Nothing but a body, naked, beaten,
The wreck of a soul, amidst thorns bleeding.
Bitterness is all God hath created;
A proud king among the failures of dreams.

I believe one love could be worth a life,
For life I would have burn'd myself away--
For nothing, life hath left me burning alone.

Girl, know that time leaves dust on my scars;
When the moment has pass'd, thousands will die.
I will remember when ghosts were mighty,
And I will laugh and catch my own tears.

In a perfect garden, all flowers flourish,
In this real garden, my flower knows thirst.
I don't think I can lift my face to the sun again.
I don't think I can look at your face again
And feel.
You were my everything, and you took
It all away.

I can almost see shimmering faery
As I recline on moss
But there isn't enough primrose
There are only wishes in
A hidden forest

I can almost see ghosts
As I shiver on icy floorboards
But Amelia is asleep in winter
There are only prayers
In a secret house

I was lost by the wayside
Amidst the groans of a tired time

There is nothing for me here
The tales of the flute by the fire
A stroll through a sombre evening
Smoke enticing from their pipes...pipes
And the honourable visions
of a pulseless mind

Death comes in an instant
If you like
But Amelia may be waking soon

When I sleep, I can't pull myself away,
Yet
But I know there are mansions out there,
Maybe on Saturn or Mars or Mercury or Luna,
Maybe on Saturn or Mars or Mercury or Luna,
...Maybe this is a clue.

I'd never been washed ashore
Or seen the droll night before
My body vanished
I hovered in the concourse
Of the court of thousands
Of yellow asphodel
It hurts remembering the fragance of Heaven.

We lived in the rowans, avoiding mad water
Spoiling our children with tea and mushrooms
Early in the autumn as we slept by the oven
Someone sent a shape who tore the house apart.

Our bond was shattered, I was drawn away
I was caught praying in the shade.

Recently, I went back to my door
And breathed...
It was love filtered through yellow paraffin
We pushed with all our might
For you...

Listening reveals his wounds
Voiceless, he kneels to you
Like a glinting dagger, one quick look
And he spills you
Sheets surrender you
And I expect trauma

Breath is real, anger's real
Sleep on your birthday and cry
Cry, my baby
Let me wash you
I have no ears for my lady...

Listen to me
You're called a silhouette
You're playful with a sin
But you see me

Speak, or stop, or kiss me
Your art is like your grin
It delivers me