Statues cannot WeepShe sits alone in an ivory tower,Not of selfishness, but isolation.There is a tall and narrow window-Wherein the sea breeze blows,And lifts the curls around her face.And such a face;A smooth, blank porcelain mask,The lips are bloodless and her eyes are as chips of pale flint,Not cold, only indescribably sad.This girl is young, her face is also pale,But her hair is a smoked-oak brown,Her eyes are blue, crystalline ice.It burns to look at her; great beauty,Like great pain, must be forgotten.Sometimes she wonders if she is more stone than flesh.Often at this time, descending seems a spiral into loneliness,Or madness, or sadness,She cannot decide which.This is no cruel enchantment.There is no white knight come to save her.Though sometimes she cannot help but dream.Her breath rises like gossamer and reminds her she is alive-Pale blue veins thrumming beneath translucent skin,That match the ones flowing up and down her delicate throatAnd soft temples;Also assure her o
Scary SkinnyShe's not anorexic, she's far too fat.She won't be happy till her stomach falls flat.She turn on the shower, it's really quite a task.Her muscles are weak, but for help she won't ask,She steps in the cubicle and keeps her eyes up,She doesn't want to see her fat body close-up,Her bones jut and float away from her skin.But still her stomach and breath she holds in.Her hips point and jut like a bony white shelf,And the cave of her stomach falls in on itself,The water cries down on her waterfall ribs,And her breasts are merely tiny white nibs.No skin on her bones, her pulse clearly seen,On the bones of her chest that shimmer and sheen,She wrings her eyes dry and cobwebs them shut,So as not to see her prominent beer belly gut,Stepping clumsy and blind out of the water,Didn't want to see the mirror, it teased and taunted her.But she stumbled on the step she'd forgotten about,And there the mirror was, staring her out.Tears melted her eyes, her fat body.. a mess..She wante
The Other PlaceIt was a elk, or at least,the remains of one.The stag was young-it still had short soft fur on its' antlers.Abandoned to ferment in the midsummer sun.The stench rolled off it in waves-like ripples of heat above a winter fire.It seemed as if it was moving,struggling to get up;but it was just maggots, writhing in the beast's flank.'Leave it, it is disgusting,' he said.'Is it?' she asked, curious.'Of course,' he replied,'Can you not you smell the decay?''We never had death in the Other Place,' she said softly,'To me this smell is new and interesting,I don't know what disgusting is.'Beneath her feet a twig snapped;the sudden noise sending the birds skyward.She stared at the crows gliding through the limbs of the trees-like ethereal wraiths.Limbs that writhed and twisted,blackened bones against the alluring sky.And with them,every crow in the nearby trees took flight,launching into the air, a plague of locusts,filling the air with their savage cries.She screamed.
Tales of Far AwayShe was tempted by a stranger who told tales of far awayEntrancing tales of worlds never touched by the light of dayNever saw his fangs and scaley hands, not the slightest clueDidn't see his warped intentions on with her he planned to doLost within the power which reflected in his eyesIt was then that he dropped his cunning humanoid disguiseAt the hour of midnight with a bite she did transformAnd in a world forever dark with night she stood, forlornTo serve a life of darkness, a demonic judgement dayIn foolish ears doomed to whisper sweet tales of far away.
Cry for MankindFar across the snowy plains, I heard a lonesome cryOf a ghostly white wolf, as she sings her lullabyCry for me, magnolia wolf, and for all of mankindFor the sorrows and destruction that man has left behindForever scarring mother earth and leaving her flesh bareI searched inside her amber eyes, but no hope for us was there.Please ivory wolf, your wisdom is what we needMankind kills your brothers, for greed and fashion they bleedCry for our souls, pale wolf, for if you look one is thereBut you disbelieve as you watch us rip this world bareWaxen wolf, I'd promise you we'd change, if only I couldPerhaps man would change if only they understood.Cry for me, lonely wolf, have faith in me, in manTake your eyes to my breast and my heart you may scanCry for us, Satin wolf, weep with your powerful voiceTell mother that we're sorry, that we'd change if we had a choiceShe looked to me with her amber gaze, and raised her head to the skyAnd I heard the mournful sound of the lonely wo
PoisonedBeneath ghostly boughs lies a fallen woman,at the foot of a ancient, twisted tree;in the clearing by the lake.her dress blossoming out around her like pooling blood-swamping her.Her skin is that of warm coffee or mocha,accentuating the whites of her eyes in comparison to their dark pool-like depths,which are unreadable above cheekbones like jags of slate.Her hair in ebony ringlets, entangled in the undergrowthwhich despite the twilight;continued to shine.'How long?' he didn't know why he spoke so quietly,voice hushed as if she were already dead.'Once the poison reaches the heart
,'she gestured to the under side of her left breast with tapered fingers;he looked down but she grasped his chinand turned his face to hers.'Listen,' she sighed,voice barely audible above the murmurs of the watersand he had to lean his head so close that her lips brushed his ear,'Please forgive me', she said softly, her voice all but gone.'I forgive you','Thank you' a pause'I love yo