her heart belongs

it is beautiful in the skies

above the clouds where a bed of white spreads

sometimes she wonders,

if her wings would stretch forever

and even then,

the stars were just too far

a little close,

but their twinkles were still faint

and so she returned

back into her little cage

the falling bricks and the rusty roof

turning to dust,

the memories of a young blood,

an ancient spirit,

returning to the skies,

where her heart belongs

 

 

 

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Dracula

Exquisite
Filthy
The joy and pain
A life of a thousand years

When the ink below my eyes smudges,
The tears of blood I shed
If my truest is my pain,
This bed of thorns I must lay

The venom is my blood
A dead heart and it’s veins
The spiders weave my robe
The scorpions fill my glass

When the darkness unfolds like a blanket,
Over the sky,
The dark angel I arise,
Creatures of the night we reign

The caskets and the mansions
The sons of the devil
Shall I see sun?
My tales to the flames

Phantoms

The demon in me
Check the shell and spill it’s secrets
Like and egg on a bare rock,
Before the sun for the world to see

The mind is an inferno
Ballads of the dead echo
Within the classics of the ancient
The winding chains around my heart

Pour me some blood
Quench this lust
And sooth my lust
The loins of a young maiden I long

To feel the warmth of her skin
With the sweat running on my back
Her veins pumped on her neck
And my fangs flashing in the moonlight

The death of flower
Withering with each kiss
Lies another body on my chest
The phantoms in my dreams

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Crimson

My soul feels cold
My eyes blind
What is, seems not
And what wasn’t, came to be

The veil of ignorance
Trapped in my illusions
These cuffs from the past
Eating flesh around my ankles

If only I had listened,
To the winds from the future
The Black Swan I saw,
Floating down a drying stream

The road we walked,
On shelling mines under our feet
A brother I lost
The only sister to care

Only to cry on my shoulder
Before she turned and walked,
Into the horizon
With my hands painted,
Into the crimson of the falling sky

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Blood on the grass

Flames light inside
Thirst runs deep
A wanting to want you

Veils of lust
Scatter petals of blood red
Smoke essence of painted daisies

A six and a nine,
A heaven and a seven
A beautiful dungeon

Smell the flower of youth
Fine berries dripping honey
A warm skin washed in a bath of milk

A harmony of forest sparrows
Pants wolves under a full moon,
The blood of a deer,
On a blade of a virgin grass

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Disney

Can’t you see?
The red and black,
Pink and orange
The paint on my face
The art in the mirror
Hoping to catch your eye
The man behind the glass wall

I am the girl on the street,
You the prince on the horse,
If I can’t fantasy the castle,
then will you ride down to the village?
To our little barn
Catch the Twilight,
and it’s young moon

I just wish one star,
Your eyes to meet mine,
And this haze to clear
If sparks can’t flame then,
Then my heart will I bury
In the tears of poetry
The diary of a bleeding love

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The cord

The sheets he laid in,
Moved and wrapped his face,
The last of his breath
He had in a dream,
Following her shadow,
When it called to him,
From the undead to the living
That the cord was cut
And he was no more

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Ocean of roses

He slides his hand down,
and I feel the warmth of his skin on mine

His figures play search me,
and I feel the strong and yet tender touch

He rubs me gently,
and I feel the tempo of his breath

On my neck,
and I hear the cry of his soul

He draws me into his world of perversion ,
and I feel my knees giving into the weight of my heart

Pounding,
and I feel the cravings of a lustful body

Kissing,
and I imagine nothing better

The tender touch of wet lips,
and the dance of ballet tongues

My weight in his arms,
and am lost of myself,
into this ocean of roses

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Over again

Your face is never far,
in my head it lingers,
The cordiality of its lines
your smile and eyes,
a sunrise,
from a stormy night

Lay with me again,
and the heavens shall speak of us
The sounds of our ecstasies,
vibrating in its chambers,
down on the earth’s bed
and below, in the pits of hells

Let the angels blow the trumpets,
birds of the sky,
sing the hymn of our hearts,
and the devils quake in dismay,
as we shoot for our passions,
coming into, a seventh heaven

Thus I will sculpt,
the curves on your body
Down the hips,
up the front
The twins on your chest
on the walls, of my mind

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