frankenstein's sexy dreams
(from an untitled poem by Princess Agony)
there's no brand like the devil's
in its concern for substance,
and no mind like the maiden's
to infer luxury from light.
and whether it's his deep mouth
or the indents where her fingers
figure the loose lightning lace of clouds,
the pit is voltage only -
a socket for the lips,
a reanimated jumble,
the spread of a wattage-white wing
to burn out the swallowing machine.
She cried out in pain
as silence enveloped her
she fell down the rabbit hole
and spirled forever
the darkness encased millions of lies
as they circled her head
and she gauged out her eyes
she felt his old touch all over her body
an extacy to much for
one person to handle
in hell you could hear her screaming
as the flames burned her skin
and left her charred
the devil there waiting for her to give in
the sight of her broken and bleeding
he picked her up and offered
she answered solemnly with a
her figure lay distorted then
into a creature more beautiful
then the one destroyed
laughing in the darkness
with the devil on her hand
she had all she wanted when her life came to
In actuality, what you wrote is impossible to accomplish.
Your scent penetrates my mind every time
I take a shower, when it clears my mind
I find myself trapped in your shadow.
Perhaps I’ve lost you; an exact location is unknown
but like rhythmic percussions and the songs of falling rain
my heart beats to remember who I love,
whom I’ve forgotten when I chose to walk away
from the broken path of disarray.
A broken link, a severed connection.
Crumbling ivory walls and concrete separation
as lonely sunsets seem to grasp
what I’ve held on to in my past.
Dreamless nights and recurring nightmares,
waking up to loveless sights and when I’ve kissed your lips
a hundred times in my mind,
I’ll feign a sunrise coming from the east
and we touch our hands like we seem to never do.
Was it the truth when you whispered forever?
Your voice was wrapped in sincerity
but what I trusted more were my insecurities.
Lingering like a slain spirit, a ghost singing in sweet reprise
of a fallen lover in distant summer skies.
Ink running down the pages of an empty journal,
were what we've chosen to leave behind.
"I'll love you until the sun gives out
and when it does, I'll embrace you in absolute darkness."
There is a knife in the cubbard,
With who wrote my name.
Scored deep, painfully so,
In the bark of a tree.
At the time,
It was a way to secure my fame.
Stating that I was there.
A year come and gone,
The tree was cut down,
Wood shipped to lumber.
My mark was forgotten by me.
There were others about,
Different names, though.
Youth proclaiming love,
Or simply their name.
There's a field cleared of trees,
With names carved in stone,
A much more permanant reminder.
I am not eager to find my name there,
Etched in the stone.
i rather liked the idea ( emo ) so i figured you can make it sparkle