Amidst Old Tomes, in Subtle Heartbeats

Listen to the imperious whisper forlorn,

crawling out the caskets of human ways age-worn.

Green lanthorns and ghost night

breathe out the briny breeze of archaic shores.

And in this Yuletide of watchful note,

curious feet walk in between

with itch, with love,

for the longing idyllic horror

of secrets most immemorial

and brilliant hope.

Cross of the Counter-Swan

Softly, you creep into my skin.

The euphoria of an abandoned wish

is the scent you torment me with

as I look into your eyes and see myself

staring back through the mass of tar and intimate regard.

I see you dance upon the carcass of time with merry remarks

ere you whisper in my ears that you’re mine by decree of bloodline.

My spirit hums at the presence of your touch;

still, as I let myself descend through your tunneling caress,

I flee from your embrace whilst my shell tears apart;

for the start of a feverish wont sunrise licks my wounds

to have me bleed and quench the subtle brute athirst

with the passion of a hound.

You yell out my name frenzied and crowned.

I turn my back and feel my tears abound.

With every step I take, away from your domain, I pray for your forgiveness

as I daydream of a time

when you and I will walk side by side.

For now, suffer me to depart.

I will return to you

when the primeval spring meets the secular in art.

The union of scorching hands will be the bridge

for our longing hearts.

You and I will be one

by decree of bloodline and ardor sublime.

Velvet Waltz

Yearning for the souls of quietude —

for the eyes that with wisdom overflow in mystic waterfalls —

I sigh and hum atop a mountain of hope.

I cast off the illusion that feeds off the blind gods

to be the wind that comes and goes

as I quest for the silken voices and bass tones.