Nightfallfest

As clandestine wisps of wind embellish the myriad of absence within The soul is construed amidst an array of obscured pristine sin Slowly surreptitiously simmering Chaotically churning within Existential obstruction Infinitely residing within Conceived whilst steeped in hellish ambrosia The conjurers confection is set to emblaze Maleficence exalted within design of vague conjectures Terrestrial tyrannies enraptured forever within a martyr's gaze Gather cinder roses; life's vacant semblance which upon the tombstones dwell As mere token, an ancient relic upon which fateful breath turned fell Littered upon beds of ashen autumn l

Razorblade lips caress his face's silken skin The pallid boy so young and frail Erratically he shook and jerked while coiled Caught in perpetual struggle His shoulders slacken At last relinquishing life's breath with ease As the soul unburdens he soars Where mind knows no limit The soul no obstruction Acceleration into nothingness The sombre expressions gather tumultuously Over the somnambulant crowd As they hold the vessel As they fail to see through ethereal eyes Shouts of indignation soar and subside Like the ocean's distant violent rumbling Life's cessation was unintended Nature's artfully crafted confections Poss

Silver sheath’s fluidity enraptures my soul The wiles of starlight The secret toil of midnight Serenity violently ensnares Life’s breath bequeathed nevermore As arcane truth dwells in droplets of porcelain tears

Your abhorrence cuts like knives Her existence was slowly eroded Who knew that her ultimate demise You would be promoting The beguiling pink bonnet encased within lace Adorned with silk ribbon was every quaint little curl And yet the hand that giveth also may take Such were the words uttered, as blood drained from her face Therefore cry all ye angels and let damnation unfurl For life’s greatest gift has now fled in a whirl Such misguided confection The psychopaths’ blasphemous art She alone is mystery’s affection Her spirit confined within tragedy stark Bellowing winds sulk in despondence while moonlight creep

Household Cleanser, Ingestion, Transformation, Vile toxicity, a corroding wonder, a cocktail for the morose ones

To you lost wanderer through time, you who have longs since sought refuge. To the one who is willing to embrace this broken vessel. I write this. Regardless of whether you mend or destroy the pitiful remnants of my heart in your embrace, I will give you my soul. For I am an ancient desert and now cracked soil abounds where water once ran without restraint. My lips are parched with the bitter taste of my own solitude. You give me but one drop and I will absorb everything you posses, and in exchange I give you my essence. My spirit longs to hear your voice but if only just to murmur one sweet word. A phrase, and it would become a soft song to g

Rays of marvellous sunlight broke free from the hands of their cloud oppressors. In full strategic departure they hurl themselves towards the ground at unimaginable speeds. Assuming militant formation in mid-decent they've already cunningly set down their plot to engulf the Earth with destructive radiance.

                                                             The nephilim The ground lay beneath a thin golden shroud of dead autumn leaves in between several rows of ancient looming trees that stretched out into the hidden depths of infinity. The trees possessed a comatose presence and all the trees on either side gradually got smaller and smaller only to fade into an incandescent light.   And there, is where I had chosen to tread. On a mysterious path, with the stars shinning overhead at an astounding proximity. It was an amazingly beautiful place of divine seclusion, a sanctuary of serenity, a refuge of utter security.   The secrecy wa

Digitized corporal masses assume formation in a lush green clearing. In perfect unison their limbs jerk back and forth secreting putrid dark blood that stains the ground. The air gives way to a joint chorus of clinking and clattering. They depart in silent flight, until nothing is heard but the whistling wind running its bonny fingers through the ruins left behind. The clearing is no more lush but acrid.

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