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Sloping through time, ravaging the world
deranged, demented, wandering on
A liquid melancholy shaping the death
Like a blood bath over the silence
Letting out a scream of agony

Morose and mundane whose to say it will change
Caught in the delirium of the mind
Whose to say things will change
As time creeps lazily catching all in its grasp
Basking in a world of dreams and memories

Phantasms of the mind

Verse (Castles in the sky) (February 19,2000)
Verses to a poem awaiting to be spoken, a mad dog to be released to tear at the troats of the purposefully ignorant who are waiting like the rats for table scraps to slip down, a little tidbit of pretty flesh to be faught over and forgotten when the next one comes along with a metalic stench to overwhelm you, feeding on your fears like those dear, dear rats so close and outnumbering by far, skittering through the halls under your feet, sore from working under bondage for those lieges who will keep their little earned castles in the sky for infininty to come teasing and tormenting all those who do their little dance on the stage of life, following like sheep, running off the cliff, plunging to their deaths in the inferno below because of their sins as put forth by the rulers of the world, the dogs in the night steeling our children to become their slaves, working for an unreachable freedom in the castles in the sky.

Faith is just a mother to cry out to when you're in pain, those all encompassing arms to get lost in when you're paranoid of the world, someone to hold you on those dark, dark nights when a stranger stands at the foot of your bed waiting to take you away to the pits of despair, a light to shine in the darkness of your lost mind to scare away the shadow-madness, someone to tell your problems to and turn away from the moment everything is fine.

It's all black and white
With a little bit of gray
In the touch of the grim reaper
Waiting to take you away
When you swing from depression to insanity
With a little touch of apathy
The death and the life
And the dying in between
And the wrong and the right
With a little of the unseen
It's a black and white world
With a little bit of gray
Standing on the edge
Waiting for the minute of decay

In cathedrals of the forest; centered on an alter rose, blood red
Born of dreams and resurected of the Reality
Where shys laugh with lightning and the thorns bite is bittersweet
A question lies in emptiness eternal;
Why?
Is it of God? Of Life?
Wandering by a stream; teardrop thoughts murmered darkly disturb the surface solitude
Soundlessly dying as you stumble on; Deranged
Nothing pure, no-thing true anymore
Is this the evolution of the mind?

Sweet chaos fans the fires of rage
As the slaves rattle their chains in the cage
Pretending escape is possible, reclamation of the free
Blinded by the hot pokers of their own atrocity

Cobalt blue
Cold as glass
A vase upon a tabletop

No purpose but to hold up
The beautiful buds
Of crimson red and peackock iridescence

It's always that way though
The flamboyant beauty
Of scarlet satin tiped vines
Or feathers that mesh life into light

Obscure the curving elegance
Of cobalt blue sadness beneath

Unborn fetus
Knowing only neglect
But you'll be worse off if you come
For you are a reject
So we must kill you
And know you no more
'Cause daddy's a bastard
And mommy's a whore

(Why?)
A question ever asking
To whom?
A person never knowing
Of God
We follow without prompting
To Hell
A place of our own making
Why?

I am but a patient, etherized upon the table
Yet a god, deranged, walking among the dead
Do I dare disturb the universe?
I will be no prophet, and here is no great matter,
But a small betrayal in the mind.
The darkness around us is deep.
So in following the wrong god home
Remaining, touching a wound that opens to our deepest horror
Pulsing out like an artery
Who shall die becomes who is innocent?
And human voices wake me 'till I drown
Spattering all I have known across the wicked white emptiness.

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