I lie awake in the sarcophagus
Mentally counting the pins struck in
the numerous Voodoo dolls with
their evil smiles and lolling heads
the eerie glow of Roman candles
carefully positioned at strategic places
casting ghostly shadows across
the chamber with pungent smell
of death and all her inmates.
The spirit of malice awaits…
whispering across the gray stones
of this silent primeval vault
with an array of scattered dreams
rotting and reeking from centuries.
The sarcophagus is something
that I can leave at night…
when the silver orb appears
unseen to me within these walls
though I feel the presence
within my frozen pores
I stare and stare for countless
hours, unblinking at the cold
stones that do not give way.
The sepulcher is an eternal prison,
welcome because there is no
place or person for me to haunt.
The endless wait however is
excruciating beyond endurance.
I lie awake…


The Abyss looks void and valid
I submerge in real and unreal
Loosening tightly woven threads
Of possessions near yet far
The proximity is but an illusion
Juxtapositions profoundly alluring
hushed tones of moments calling
to the apparently dismal dazzle
the blurred edges of love and
lust…arduous to decipher
why try then?
Tickling of clock is a hollow sound
Shoving second after second
Hiss of the snake is another kind
of lethally distracting music
conceit is overtly deceit
hidden is another story altogether
smudged cheeks of art entice
treacherous mix of guile with
guileless…noticeably undistinguished
why pry then?
Darkness confides in light
Gloom has a tendency to shine
Screams slyly embrace smiles
Stars and moon and sun combust
Needs artfully ignite emotions
Thirst is enough to quench thirst
Past, present and future collide
Making a disjointed whole
Of things bestowed and snatched
away…without ceremony
Why cry then?


Tonight is not the only night
Wrapped up in damnation
Bourbon smooth and sinfully dark
So perfect a stage for your
Mephistophelian presence…
The art of love is more a lust
Shrouded in decadence and
Oh, so dear to this immoral heart
From where the vapors of evil
arise in eerily dancing circles.
The moth to flame is a vile tale
Yet somehow addictive in its
passion filled details and the
ruthless sound of singed wings
with powerfully disturbing image
Of love attained and lost.
The hellish beauty of depravity
slowly enfolds in pleasure-pain
stunning in its intensity,
loosening the tight knot of faith
the hearts and brain turn cold
as Heaven quickly freezes
and Hell rages and reigns…

You and I

Your Chaos ignites my Fire
as we dance in circles
Amidst the raging cosmos
Furious with all within
and all without.
The devil in you invites me in
I plunge ahead in the dark
void, offering my soul
Gift wrapped in gold…
The flames leap up
at your ready acceptance
The pandemonium persists
as we dance in circles…