RequiemIt has been some hoursI have bit the bladeand you should see the wound i've mademy eyes were faucets for a whilei thought i could sustain a smilebelieved my energy would lastbut i have used it all too fastshe's far away, and I suspect,her eyes grew moist, if for a sec,my heart beats on - a bloody mess,yet my life flows with easiness,it's been some hours and i recall,when i was young, i built a wall
*That Thing* episode 96He should have thought about it.Lots of others were thinking about it.His friends thought about it, as well as his enemies, and even people he didn't know or couldn't name thought about it.Yes, nearly everybody was thinking about it one time or another---except him of course.He didn't know why they thought about it, because he didn't think of it himself.He didn't even know what it was.
the LibertineI'll tell you true,I had a dream,and I did drink the Libertine,offered to me by one so fair,with green-isle eyes and amber hair,I was dreaming of a bar,I remember it well,and the Libertine worked its spell,Its taste was cool, her lips were wet,and I have tasted all of it,Time has passed, the dream lives on,its cool taste is almost gonePerhaps I'll be in the amber one's dreams,and I shall drink of Libertine
Wanderings...pt 6Eleusis?Keys in ancient rituals and legends...The Moon Goddess walks through the forestCivilization is the jungleConcrete denies lifeI don't knowperhaps I should seekThe Rowan-tree (wood)Follow the dewy mists into Portentsand listen to the thunderings of my dreams...
Tears for Fears (closing part)Tears for Fears, (closing part)There's a silence within the space of this timenot waiting, not wanting, just standing sublimea reflection of tired eyes, softened and wetlooking at empty dreams, watching and yetfrom memories arising that cloud up my souland stir my emotions for i've nowhere to goi've seen a lot with these circle dark eyesbeen loved and been left I am not surprisedtwo hands scarred and toughenedproud wounds like the heartthe hands can make fists, but the self falls apartnot wanting to anger, not wanting to rage,endlessly crucified: society's cagethe mirror's reflection bearing no smile,shrouded in darkness like some ancient islestretching out moments of time and of spacefeeling hot tears disfigure the facea sonata in solitude like some lonely barcalling in vagrants who also bear scarshumming some rhythm of melancholy thoughtfor dreams yet undreamt and wars yet unfoughtthe light fades out slowly from the windowpane's eyesand the sun sinks down lowly