This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.

Where grace and evil
Meet the screaming stars,
Lamplight in dragonlight
Echoes matchless lost dreams
And are torn apart in raging squalls.

Twisting vines of sweet decay
Are wreathed around this ugly neck
And thorns of bitterness so black
Stab down and rip teeth through her throat.

Break the night and cull the heart,
Or writhe the scoffing vomit fear
From guts to merciful despair,
For where she lies,
Nobody cares.

Whip her rippling, pale white flash
With slash of bone and steel cruel claws
And stake each finger on her face
Where she might hide from laughing sneers
And throw herself
Away to
Hell
And far away from here.

No more.

Flayed strips of self
Bleed in the muddy rain
Where cars plunge lost limbs in
Acid rapids
And the broken flutter of butterfly wings
Is pathetic desolation
In the midst of a corpse storm,
That rages only in its own memory,
Dead and lost,
Though it cannot see
Its thundering fate
Of stone.

I wish I were
Dead.

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.