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Tuesday, April 29, 2008
9:06 PM

Where can i start? For my heart is empty again.
Barren, like the blue sky above, soon to be riddled with storm clouds.
Dry and unmerciful, like the desert's sudden winds.
Cold as the poles of the planet, unable to love or bear warmth.
Ever again.

And without knowing it, i have already written.
The words flow like a stream that blesses the cursed ground
Upon which it glides, sweeping away the sins.
Just for a time. Until the sun burns the moisture
And the pain is renewed.

Why? Why so much enforced melancholy?
Is it enforced?
Or does it come as naturally as a confined geyser.
Burning the air as it erupts.
Scorching the essence of existence.

I want to love. To embrace it with my dying heart.
But i find i am unable to.
Too much pain. Not worth the trouble. Or is it?
Is love that worth it? is pain a small price to pay for
It's seemingly unending light?

To some perhaps. But not to me.
Love has failed me. Or I it. either way,
I gave up on it a long time ago. Melting it in the fires
Of my hatred's passage.
Igniting it in my passionate destruction

Of self and soul.

My scars tell my tales. Read them if you can.

Romulus Demonicus


ravens

:)
RAVENS
:)
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