From maidens fair,
and hissing serpent hair...

Pour salt on funeral fires,
manequettes strung by devilish wires...

***Like Hell if know what this poem is about. Life...
He walks, fossilized...

Like the aimless dawn
that breathes lightly on a haunting illustration...

His blindness,
his deafness...

In fields of dried and twisted trees
my memories reflected on the leaves...

***My mind has developed writer's block.
Here's some random suicidal thoughts...

Approaching my throne of shadow passion
a broken sun, and zombified lovers...

Thy eyes are blind but I can see,
the snowflakes glistening on the trees...

Chime with a bell of death,
a lullaby beneath your shiver breath...

Lady, you're killing me,
while my eyes bathe in dream...

From a tower of despair,
that scars the sky...