This place is full of ghosts. They exist in the gloomy light of Corpse-coloured candles In those dark cottage walls, Lingering with a ghoulish fondness. I find myself drawn to remain also. Perhaps these melancholy ruins offer More than fear; They invite somber reflections- Reflections of the living as well as the dead- And I… Continue reading Pleasantly Haunting
I'm brooding over a mug Of black coffee at 4am, Trying to warm my cold bones And broken heart... Oh please, I drink green tea After my morning yoga; I'm about as happy as it gets. Unfortunately mountains poses And sunrise Don't sell quite as well As moonlight and despair.
Bury the hatchet, Or better yet burn it And scatter the ashes so far across the sea We stand no chance of digging it up. 'Cause I know you, You'll get bored and start looking. At least this way We can only stand on the beach And reminisce in what It used to be.
I know you fancy yourself to be quite the artist, But the rest of us just see it as graffiti; Walls and walls of words Hell-bent on ruining everything You spent your life building. Go Ahead. Burn it to the ground, Something or other will rise in its place. Bend Hell into whatever shape you… Continue reading I know you fancy yourself to be quite the artist
My feet feel like stormy seas, Leading me away from shore. My hands feel like cloudy skies, Grasping at nothing but fog- Feeling nothing but rainfall. My eyes see like rocky ground, Littered with rubble from the past.