MasqueradePoetry

“Remember me,” was scrawled in grey upon the page. Only grey; what a disgusting final memoir of her beastliness. Of her only, last thoughts in a forgotten hour. Words that were officially now long faded, and the fire in her eyes had long ceased, many years ago. Once, she had been deeply loved, the embers of her heart adrift in a pale sky. I had watched her, deeply, lovingly, wanting to touch her flesh. I had wanted to smell the sweetness of her skin, caress the lonely beating of a mechanical heart. But the last day of Autumn had fallen on her. From the bottom of a small pail of water, luminous and waiting, her body, he

Ivory fingers on the piano keys, remains of a maggot-infested corpse. Hollow eyes, sad and unpleasing, the misshapen spare parts given no remorse. Reflections of dust floating in the sunlight, naught but a sign of something that could never be possessed. The sins of homicide on a cool February evening, something dark to never be confessed. Old memoirs rushing through It’s veins, reaching down to the stony fingertips and toes. The piano is stricken, unimaginable words screaming, breaking the silence of the world through the snow. Everything was dust, and It understood, leaving the baby grand’s seat in an uncomfortable qu

Frost-bitten memories once of you and I, washed away again by deceitful waves. In which loneliness bled through the tides, putting hollow masqueraders to the grave. Fog wavered there, atop the gloomy waters, and reminded me of forgotten embers. I watched through the ice-glazed window, as you trudged away through broken Decembers. Flowers stripped of their once tender beauty, have waited since for you at the door. You had once blessed me with your china roses, a much longer time, far before. Mishapen petals, now frayed at the ends, remind me deeply of things I once kissed. The mirrored image of your tattered soul, might be the o

Darkness drew soft, fabled fingers here, silencing the trees and tugging shadows. Sheets of snow and ice blanketed there, and the river fell quiet with remorse. Had it not been so cold, so alone and sharp, the trees crystalized in mishapen tears. The jaded grass and the labyrinth of forest, smelling thickly of a fetid death. Skeletal branches scrap high to the clouds, reaching out with broken, bony fingers. They creak and cry in the violent wind, falling down, like shadows lost. Mist grazed with tender illumination, and set far gone trees to black. The decomposed corpses of old, tired trees, swallowed up on the base with a cont

Can you not hear the ocean? The most faint sound of water, drowned out by the waves' gentle, lonely cry, lost forever and never remembered. Can you not touch the ocean? Like delicate little ripples of old memories forgotten, the sea envelopes the sky and devours and consumes all that lives. Can you not taste the ocean? The old taste of misery and longing that overpowers the body and soul, that was nothing more than an empty promise. Can you not smell the ocean? The smell of death longers here, ashes floating in the sea, a loved one forever buried in the cold, cruel water. Can you not speak the ocean? The sound of mourning, he

Within the darkness of the sea, my heart lies, untouched by impurity. In the icy depths, a cold void, my soul shall wait in lifelessness. The sea, waves so endless, are mourning, for all the life has wandered away. Misery loves its company, they say, but forever here, only misery remains. Charred remains of the children, are scattered in the lonely waters. An empty soul remains, only to weep, for the sea no longer remembers joy. A void of trepidation and ennui lies, drifting in and out with the tides. The ocean carries the children away, and they rest at the bottom of the sea. The children are cold and pale, but they smile wi

The people were in grey ashes, and the sun was black with nightmare. Another victim dies tonight, of the sickness, and innocence asks why. Burning forest and thundering rage, the land falls into eternal darkness. Death and dying races across the land, nuclear contamination devouring all purity. Death closes his skeletal hand around her, and captures her immortal body in an eclipse. Shadows absorb all of her beauty and strength, and she turns eternally to stone. The sound of breathing is lost in the wind, the sound of a heartbeat has been drowned. The soft laughter of a child his been destroyed, and innocence asks why. Are you

A black casket laden with bloody white roses, and the sound of a gun still fading slowly. Hush now, it's so quiet beneath the surface of death, and the funeral ground is bare and white. A snow-sheeted land of remorse and death, the longing disease over-powering the land. The caskets drift in the icy ocean, forever lost, the sound of a baby crying remaining on the shore. The snowy seas of disease and remorse take the bodies, and send them slowly to the edge of the earth. There, they'd fall forever, never to reach bottom, as the caskets of the dead fall eternally in the dark. Shadows weave in and out of the sea, the coffins of the

The black, sour taste of night fills my soul, as I journey further down the abandoned road. Dust kicks up from the forgotten path, where have I gone, now lost and distressed? Sunset is lonely, like a pastel dream of forgotten memories, it drifts lazily down the horizon, slowly spreading shadows. I fall prey to the merciless cruelty that is night, the darkness very slowly, swallowing it all. The crimson sun fades slowly, the people hiding in their homes, the families distant and silent, hiding from truth. But I know the lies better than they could ever know, even if they didn't hide behind their masks of peacefulness. The sunset, i

Where have I gone, lost at night, where loneliness is plentiful? The sweet fragrance of death lingers here, when I feel lonely at night. Where has all the happiness gone, has it faded away into the skies? I cry, to the heavens, begging for joy, but I am crawling closer to darkness. Do you feel lonely, lonely at night, where darkness stirs and gives us a fright? Isn't it horrible, don't you feel lost, when even the darkness has a cost? Shadows loom along the barren lands, and the trees are all burnt and cold. Death is not something rare at night, for it remains forever, cruel and silent. It's like an old piano tune, heart-brea