Her.

Enraptured in ribbons of silken ash, the resentful fragrance of forgotten love notes.
A streak of pastel afternoon, shameless moans, wisps of memory like trodden lilies.
An ochre butterfly, to be lathered in rust, hovers over flowers bedewed for a hearse.
The scrape of hired silk flitting over sand scrubbed limbs, peddling mannequin love.


Window-sill tunes hummed under once warmed eyes
Glittering toes unreal under a sun starved wave
Blackened promises entwined in snake skin fingers


“Is it true? Did she truly dictate so?”
“But, of course Ariana. I would never lie of the Lady of the Stained Blades. I watched her offer out verdict, she sentenced a child to the Maggots.”
“How atrocious. One would think that God’s prized, prismed child..”

Sybil Vane heard all. Sybil Vane saw all. Sybil Vane did not raise her powdered eyelids. She did not remove her palm from the scepter of jade and amethyst by which she burnt the mark of misery upon those judged as black. She did not rise from the throne of onyx and pearl from which emerged a thousand rays that eclipsed the seven suns in the seven skies of Atlizuth.

“Her darkness is unmatched. To throw an old widow to Those Who Violate…”
“She is a monster, I tell you. A hideous creature with no beauty of soul. All she can possess is a glittering shell.”

Sybil Vane had learned to stop the tears. She had learnt to stifle the venom in her once blooming heart. The venom of reproach, of hate, of mockery, of being despised and feared. Sybil had learnt to no longer desire. And to no longer reach for that desire. She had learnt to no longer live.

She gently stroked the wound upon the skin of her neck, a mark that blazed like an angry sunset, red and gold when she spoke the words of No Life. She had tired of the screams that no longer repelled her, the prayers that no longer touched her. She wanted to sleep, she wanted to unchain herself of the mindless existence she was afforded, a perpetual tale of blood and sin, and more blood in return. She wanted to leave the heat of the sceptre’s blazing power and dissipate into the bliss of an icy shroud. She was tired, and sad.

But her pains were petty, insignificant, unworthy of celebration or even acknowledgement. Her tale was one that resounded in every human breath; the failure of love. Common. Pathetic. Unbecoming to the soul of the woman who had been Juliet, been Cleopatra, been Ophelia. She had been the conquerer of intellects, she had been every enchantress that ever enthralled a heart, but Sybil Vane could not remember when she had been herself, and been loved for it, except, that is…

“Prince Charming…”
The word was still like ambrosia to her lily touched lips. Of course, she had become conscious of the truth; he had ensured that. He had been every other man who loved the lies she nurtured on the gawdy, peeling stage of the alley-house. He had luxuriated in the deception she had once loved as her identity. Yet, he was one whose lies she had not realized until he burst them upon her. He was one who had given her the few moments of illusion that she had craved for helplessly all her mortal life. Sybil was starved for his lies once again. She wanted the feathered blindfold, she wanted the motleyed robe of the fool, Sybil Vane, Lady of the Stained Blades wanted love. Or the next best thing, lie.

“My Lady of the Sceptre of Justice.”

More sinners. More sighs. More agony. Sybil gestured for approach without looking ahead.

“And your travesty…?” She spoke, and all bowed.

“Must I make a list, Your Grace? I might be a while.”

There was never any mistaking his voice. There was never any mistaking his scent. Sybil could feel the very fact of his presence pierce into every atom of her being. The space and the time and the elements that held her into a concrete form seemed to rupture and let free the lunacy that nested in the guise of a dove inside her red leaved walls. The scepter had long tumbled to her feet….or what was remnant. But she noticed not. She noticed nothing. Except that she had once against found the reason to be…her.

“Prince Charming…”

(To be continued.)

A Killer who thinks.

.





I was falling into madness. A madness of my own doing. And all I ever wanted was that which I was about to accomplish. I was falling to darkness, and I felt nothing but lust. Desire. Animal, Primeval, howling desire to embrace the masness that approached me with mocking promises. It laughed at my foolishness, it jerred at the supreme, unsurpassed idiocy of a creature such as myself, one that wished to drink the elixir of nothingness, knowing full well of its consequences. Void. Complete black. An eternity of watching the future become history. Of towers collapsing to dust and dust rising to mammoths. An endless pursuit, a madness. With one grotesque, intoxicating kiss, I had set bare my soul as fodder for demons. I had become the architect of my own damnation. My core was laced with insanity. And how sweet the feeling. I revelled in the ecstasy of becoming a deviant, one that belonged nowhere, one that was truly free, of love, of hate, of affection, of expectation, of rebuff, free to pursue that which was my sustenance, my madness, my muse

Again

Kisses fair, kisses wild,

I wait for you to tread faded paths.

Watch the stars calling for the last melody,

Unbelieveing as they plunge into sleep once again.

Listen to the parley of the bronzed leaves,

That weep the frozen beauty of their white queens.



One last time,

Pipe me a tune.

Sing me of errant love, of slithering lust

Of gleaming tombs and a peeling bust.

Give Memory back to the dead, and tears to the wise.

Give blood to the King, and let him smile.

One last time.



Darkness trapped within a net of light.

Unreality painted with promises bright.

Come into my lure again,

I'll kiss your fevered sleep away.

Wake you to a precious dream,

A world without your beloved's scream.



Must you run? Must you defy?

Must I bleed and quarter your kind?

Must I sigh a million sighs?

And buy your love with pain?



One last time.

Make me cry.

I'd like to feel.

One last time.

Led to the Scyld,
It is the river of the Dead.
Crimson sorrow washed by the sins of mortal lust.
On its banks swirm the mist of Him.
The Dark Lord, who will now own my fetid soul.

Stinking of sin, this unseemly feeling of death.
Was it only yesterday that the dagger pieced the heart?
It is all a dream; yet Sheoul is beautiful.
All the wretched dreams are now over, I am at peace.

The ice cold glacial cleft where i lie
As Time is non existent, and my existance freezes to nothing.
The sleep overtakes me, but does not conquer.
I hear it.

The swish of a feather touch, the white light that dazzles the very core of my unseemly being.
I do not behold the sight, my visison is lost.
But, who are you, alien being?
Joy and purity in the bowels of Evil?

The voice and the song "Lady of Poison"
I feel those lost tears flow one more time...
I despise you Sheoul.
I despise you, Evil.

Take me away, unknown angel.
Take away this wretched, degraded being.
To wherever you steps may take.
Atlizuth or Assiah.

The light receeds. I feel the warmth lost.
Where are you going?
The song fades. And I realise.


I am still alone.

Rejected.

I know what its like to be rejected,
Again and again until;
You realize that you are nothing but the castaway.
The mistake of creation.
The obstacle to the perfect world.

I know what its like to be rejected.
To feel the fire of helplessness burning within you.
Your love-blood evaporates to nothing.
And you suffer.
And no one notices.

I know what its like to be rejected.
To feel the hot liquid seeping down your cheek.
And the bitter bile at your throat.
The feeling of disease and plague.
And that you are no longer anyone.

I know what its like to be rejected.
To hear the words “It won’t work out.”
To hear the words “You’re not my type.”
To hear the words “ I’m very sorry.”
Better luck next time.

Better luck next time?
There won’t be a next time.

The metallic taste of blood slices the tongue.
And the knife falls from the hand
Sparkling a crimson hue.
The spinning of world.
The feel of the cold stone floor rushing to meet you.
The crashing pain in the skull.

Goodbye.

Death will not reject me.

My body is cold, frozen from deep inside
My lips are crimson ice.
Eyes as hollow as the whore you took yesterday.
Heart as tainted as the Demon's kiss.

The golden mask slips,
The gasps are heard.
My eyes narrow, sparkling in greed.
I feel my lips moisten.
What a beautiful man.
What delicious prey for tonight.

Sickeningly white fingers beckon at the innocence
Your body, helpless in lust; follows.
I wonder who brought him here.
A virgin flower, to a congreagation of sins and filth.

In the dead, dark garden
Where violated angels stand encased in cold marble
I brought you; you followed me like a lost puppy.
One soon to be enslaved and exploited.


The light of the moon was almost like a shroud
Over a dead corpse.
It shrouded us.
My dead eyes assaulted your vision;
And I felt you drown under the grip of my control.

Our lips met.
And you tasted the poison of lust.
I felt your desire,
As fresh as the river.
And I knew, that you were mine.

Untitled


It’s been almost a fortnight since you left.
Your watch still on the dresser.
Your sock still lying on the living room floor.
Your eyes still in my mind….and my heart.
Those deep, black eyes…as black as a never ending winter night.
Cold, still, beautiful….wrenching out every secret from this rugged heart.
My scarred face, my scarred existence.
Seeing through one eye, I only see one side of this world.
Oracle, Oracle….I am the oracle. One who sees all.
One who knows all.
Then why do I not know who you are, ice-cold prince?
Your eyes, deep, black eyes….as black as….no,no…they are a true black.
The black of sparkling ebony presented to a queen.
This one is as black as charcoal, burnt, harsh charcoal.
You are the child of the dawn and enigma.
Unreachable as the sun, alluring as the Apsara
The dance of the ethereal starts…the song of the enchantress moon.
I see you now. I am the Oracle. I see all.
I know all.
Sent by the gods of blood to destroy this abomination with one eye.
One eye. And she sees all!!
You came, you left.
You did not kill me. Why?
This eye now sees that you will never return….and the wasteland lies before me.
Death seems a gift, but I regret not.
Goodbye. I have loved you.
I love you now.