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As lonely as a pregnant moon upon the midnight sky,
Without the fleeting comfort of the stars,
I am loathe to wake today, to face the dawning light,
A scar on which the touch of beauty mars.
I walk this empty earth, a man without a soul,
With no sense of desire in my heart.
Death is but a gentle sleep, a blanket from the cold,
And nothing is the fabric of my art.
Like Cain and Abel, brothers both, one dead and one alive,
A paradox of living, breathing love.
How to give and how to take with greed my guiding light,
How to act when push does come to shove.
Come place your head upon the crest of this, my shoulder cold,
And trace your pale white fingers on my chest.
Excite in me the flames of passions past and passions yet unclaimed
And do not stop until you give me rest.
My life is but a foreign map with streets yet unexplored,
With travesties that line the paving stones.
Tread carefully, and place your feet upon my broken dreams,
Now nightmares that send thrills right through my bones.
Like seven sons with seven sins, and seven seas to be
Forever stained in carnal lust’s delight.
A tragedy demanding of a swansong yet unsung,
A pinnacle of wrong accomplished rites.
I seek forgiveness for my deeds from God who is not there.
I speak alone to icons in the night.
How to know what is the truth, why do I even care?
I am defeated, forsaken in your sight.
Originally Posted On Site: 2008-07-04 15:44:11
Last Login: 07.04.08
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