Month: September 2015

My morrigan

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I love the broken way you hold yourself
The shadows on your tongue
your tattered innocence peaking through your tilted smile
Your eyes flashing green when you’re happy and grey when you’re mad. My stormcloud. The soft sound of your voice.
My memories come sharp and clear. And I’m not sure how many more years I can endure without you.

I wrote this song for you. I wrote it awhile ago. But I can’t bring myself to sing it. As if singing it would drive the point home.

She’s smiling and I’m laughing
She’s sleeping and I’m watching
She’s incandescent and I’m night

It’s all in my rear view
And I can’t fight the fight

Each day that passes and I’m further away from you
I’m losing those moments, those minutes, those days.
Each time I wake, I walk farther away
Each time I sleep, I remember.

It wasn’t the loss that I could not endure
It’s this litany of days and hours without you

She’s dancing and I’m clapping
She’s yelling and I’m screaming
She’s cold and I’m colder

It’s all in my rear view
And I’m another year older

Each day that passes and I’m further away from you
I’m losing those moments, those minutes, those days
Each time I wake, I walk farther away
Each time I sleep, I remember

It wasn’t the loss that I could not endure
It’s this litany of day and hours without you

She’s going and I’m watching
She’s bleeding and I’m sleeping

She’s dying

Each day that passes and I’m further away from you
I’m losing those moments, those minutes, those days
Each time I wake, I walk farther away
Each time I sleep, I remember

Doesn’t seem like much, does it. And it’s not real. I remember you. each minute, each touch, each laugh.  I remember. Sometimes, to endure, I tell myself that I don’t remember. But like all lies, the truth will shine through.  And when it does its like losing you again. I cry and cry and nothing makes the pain ebb. sometimes I am happy and I’ll turn or think to tell you about something then it comes crashing back down. the days like this are getting further apart and I’m not sure that I can endure losing you in my memories as well.

Top 5 questions I really want an answer to on a date.

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1. What is the worst experience of your life? What is the story of it.

Why: Our experiences shape us and I’m rather a dark cat. If your life has been mostly sunny then there may be some compatibility issues.

2. What experience or experiences have been the best? What makes you feel at peace, happy?

Why: What we see as worthwhile and how we experience beauty is a part of our fundamental selves.

3. Do you like music? What do you like about it?

Why: If you don’t like music then we’re going to have issues. Music is a major part of who I am, I honestly have a hard time relating to someone who doesn’t like music or worse just sees it as background noise.

4. Do you like reading? What do you like about it?

Why: pretty much the same why as 3.

5. What types of art do you like? Why?

Why: Art reveals what we are passionate about.

Top 5 songs that get me moving

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  1. Armin Van Buuren: Ping Pong
  2. Aesthetic Perfection: Oh’ Gloria
  3. (redacted)
  4. Danny Breaks: In Her
  5. TAKENOBU: Shady Grove

Like a crescendo and a then a slow fall to quiescence.

Top 5 things to do if money was not an issue

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1 open a every day of the week private goth club, make it the anchor of every goth and industrial bands tour, open 24 hours a day

2. Open a dungeon and a members only dungeon. Invite Dom’s and Sub’s in for demonstrations and classes. 

3. Buy a radio station, staff it with the Cemetery Confessions people

4. Start a defense contractor business (thought it was gonna be all goth stuff, didn’t you)

5. Buy a few elections

This is all stuff I want, sure there are other things that I would do but they are boring and so standard they are not worth mentioning.

Drinks tonight?

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The frenetic shift as humanity gears up for one last throw of the dice. One last prayer to the gods of hedonistic delight. Otherwise known as Friday night happy hour.

The work week done and the salaryman, soft and pallid beneath his suit, drinks from Lethe’s waters in the form of cheap vodka dressed up in its father’s clothes. Martini glasses, olives and onions making that Stolichnaya beautiful to weary eternally hopeful eyes.

A thrum fills the air with people throwing out energy, a little too loud, a little too free. Crutch in one hand and a all too brittle smile in the other. Tonight’s the night to have fun or lay weeping in the gutter. Caution fluttering in the wind.

Bound for pleasure, bound to forget, shackled into lives we take this escape deeper into the grave. So happy to be let loose that we slip the cuffs back on in the morning. The crushing weight of a society that neither knows nor cares. Held together by people dreaming in a future that’s long dead.

Where were you

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Where was I? I was leaving my house going to work after the first plane hit. I went to work, people were watching the news on big screens setup for this purpose. I kept working.

This may seem cold to you. And looking back now, I see that it was. But at the time, I had a job to do and I did it. I wasn’t in a position to do anything about it. I didn’t know anyone in the Towers or the planes. So I didn’t feel any personal response. As to people attacking the USA. Given the information at the time, I viewed it as inevitable. I did not expect the scale.

As to the loss of human life, well I can’t say anything that doesn’t make me sound callous. The loss of life is always a tragedy. Each life cut short, cut short of the potential a full life may bring. But I have no feelings on the matter. Just regret at the loss.

So that is where I was. A cold, callous man doing a job he thought important but which turned out to not be. Thank the Gods that man is dead.

Monsters

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I’m attracted to the damaged ones. The broken people. When I am with them, I try to fill them with love and beauty. Give them space to grow and be free. But it is not altruism that attracts me. It is like blood on the water.

And much as I struggle against my darker desires, I am a wolf. So the tattered innocence, the broken virtue, the lied to, the betrayed, they draw me near. I can see into the broken places and I desire to cuddle up next to them.

It is the monster in my heart. One I would rather die than allow freedom. I’ve caged it round with rules and obligations. Made it serve me. Hopefully it is enough.

Vows of a drowning man

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I’m sure your body is beautiful. But I’m looking at your eyes. Your eyes are the window to your soul. They reflect the world around you. I want nothing more than to see them crinkle with a smile when they see me.

The body is a playground and, believe me, we will play. Your joy, your laughter, your sobs, your tears, the soft thoughts and harsh words. These all are seated in your eyes, issued forth from lips and tongue, breathe over vocal cords. Churned forth in the maelstrom of your mind.

I may like the way you move, the outfit you wear. The form of your body. But I reserve my love for the parts that make up your soul. Whisper your words, pierce me with eyes, show me your world.

I am…

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I am the darkness that follows the light
The Night that swallows the day
The profane whisper that drinks down sacred exhalation

I am the shadow that extends its hand
The crack of the whip that brings pleasure
The trailing fire that wakes the timid

I am the sound scritching against your window
The terror that burrows deep
The truth at the heart of your fears

I am the step that takes you deeper
The rushing wind that heralds the fall
The snap of wings, caught air before crash

I am the winter that murders the sun
The frost that quiets the fire
The fade that swallows the world

And still…

I am not the evil that you are.