Framed

True beauty is candid and unsettling. 

Cold hands

Yes,

Even great fires wither;

but it is always the frigid air that reminds us.

Vamp

They paint their faces

and run fearlessly into the darkness. 

Chrysopoeia

It is said it'll come around one day.

But when it comes it doesn't stay.

It lived once. (Quite in decay)

But thusly faded anyway. 

Upon itself it did consume.

But space itself became it's doom.

And thoughts of leaving always loomed.

In of itself 

This unity

Detached without impunity.

And so destined it was to be

Sadly lost to history.

True death is

the loss of memory.

So as not to reciprocate this tragedy.

Mad Love pt. 2

This mouse in a maze.

You run to a cage.

Where safety's incentive 

was how well it pays. 

You ran from a lion. 

But there's no denyin'

There's love and there's life 

and you can't have it both ways. 

Mad Love

The moon gives in to morning

like a servant in a chain.

The rhythmic dawn of wanting

Many lifetimes lived in vain. 

For what great release can harbor you?

What great reunion sought?

When blindness has come over you

and sunrise's light waits for you not. 

Mourn the Great Ouroboros

Here lies the great Ouroboros.

Who didn't see

Who didn't hear

Who didn't move or care.

Who never heard your prayers

Who wasn't really there. 

His tail in cheek

His nostrils weak.

His teeth were ground to dust.

His thoughts remain a mystery

Though his fate was surely just. 

Indifference was his legacy.

Omniscience was his curse. 

And though he died a lonely death

He swore companionship was worse.