Phantoms limbs

Phantom limbs

They ache with every passing day.

In echoes of laughter.

In war cries. 

Vanguards of the fostered night.

Through catacombs of well wishes.

The cold, biting wind rips through the atmosphere. 

Through the skin.

To the bone. Where it was cut away.

The feeling; the memory.

A symptom of brazen dissent.

Chasing Ghosts

Can't we return to splendor?

The truth we oft deny 

Love turns to hate in cloudy weather.

Sunk and swollen whence we die. 

Along the parched red avenue.

Beneath the waning sky. 

Along the shores of solitude,

Does all ambition die. 

Return again to splendor. 

Return again to hope. 

Below the monoliths of beauty;

Lay the means with which we cope

Moonlight pt 2

 The sun has gone down but the moon didn't rise. Her pale fire absent from my wanting eyes. Her brilliance was missing 

No roads to be seen. No future, no present, no chance for goodbyes. 

I once saw her phases while lost in a forest. I howled at her faces when I felt the lowest.. For it was her beauty I could not deny and her greatness unchallenged by the stars in the sky. 

This night I can't see her 

Perhaps never again. 

But forget her I will not 

This isn't the end. 

Moonlight pt 1

Let me save you from the lightning

Let me pull you from this home. 

Let me see you in the seconds of the memories that I've known. 

I can feel you in the blowing wind 

I can feel you in despair

Let me feel your sadness with you 

Prove to you that I'll be there.

In the depths of sadness

Heights of joy. 

And valleys of unknown. 

Let me in your heart and mind

Let our love be your new home. 

Divider

Let's scrape their bodies off the asphalt.  Tangled, mangled lovers on the road. 

Lose our sight because their brightness is a marvel to behold.

Redeyes

In a puff of smoke.

Vanished is the torch.

Into the darkness

Into the dawn.

Retreated twilight.

Red eyes, black holes.
Shudders and sapphires 

Into the abyss.

What is left.

What is felt.

Torn asunder..

Cold Comfort

Should we laugh or should we cry when the freedom fighters die? 

Should their visage be remembered in this rotten dead eyed world? Or should our safety be the burden in our dreamer's lucid eye? 

Can we pay with lives our arrogance? Is this all just a lie? 

When we send our soldiers packing 

once their resources go dry. 

This stale joke has gotten old. 

And our victims are becoming bold.

Their heart's have grown a decade cold. Since the day we put our peace on hold. 

I cry, "we should know better!" when the dice fell where they lay.

Yet it's thinking "We know best"

That has made it all this way.