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The Tell Tale HeartI feel the rhythm of his heart,beneath the boards the beating starts;as reason from my mind departs,I fall apart, I fall apart.The men who knocked upon my door,not knowing what's beneath my floorwill want to settle up the score -I do implore, I do imploreThis guilt breaks conscience with my lie -my wracking sobs and wretched sighs.I never meant for him to die.It was his eye, it was his eye!
MoonlessThe moonless eveningturns its back against the skyand leaves it empty.Perhaps the morningwill come back with its hands full,holding up the sun.
Abeo SolusFlitting heartbeat, sparrow high,twisting round the mountain's eye,tracing breath of shattered skiesand filling velvet palms.Falling sparrow, cry of stone,wings of mist and powder bonesipping, slipping from thy thronewithin their crimson throng.Treading now, beneath the cloudsAs what was once so heaven boundnow falling, falling, to the groundAnd singing silent songs.Fly no more, above the arcssinging side thy fellow Larkscurl beneath their shadows darkand sing your silent songs.Your flitting heartbeat, Sparrow high,now sings of silent songs.
Insane?What makes you thinkI am less sane then you?Because I'm depressed,does that make me mentally unstable too?So I'm suicidaljust because I cut?I have one outburstand you mark me down as a nut.Just because I hear voices,means I'm losing my head,Because I hate myself,Does that make you think I wish I were dead?Don't call me broken,Don't call me weak,I'm not insane,just unique
RainRings and rivulets of waterRolling down the panes and roofRunning wildly through the guttersResting underneath the porchRaking wet across the shuttersRemaining still for far too longRestless children yearn to play
StorytellerStorytellertell me a story.A fable of wisdomor a tale of glory.Sing me a songof dreams andof wonder.Stories of kingdoms risingand worlds going under.Draw me a picturewith colours so brightand spin me a fairytaleto dream of tonight.
RondeletsBlackbirdsBlackbirds crying,Beaks pierced with rue; wing tips brokenBlackbirds cryingFrail songs born on air and dyingAnd frail sounds no voice has spokenTiny beating hearts laid openBlackbirds cryingShiverShiver of hipsA twist of silk sends coins flyingShiver of hipsthe rhythm poised upon her lipsDancer, her seven veils sighingsilk upon her bronze skin lyingShiver of hips
SelkieI know the ocean's gentle, rolling waves -the treasures in its dark and murky depths;and deep within its grottoes and its caves -tis there the fey will lure me to my deathI met a girl so fair of face and skin,her wanton kisses wrapping me within -that all my senses lurched and crept away,to lock me in this wet and slippery grave.
anorexic's lamentmy lover crushed the budding fruit in mewhich ran from out my legs like currant wine –that sweet unwelcome blood of atrophysat red upon her tongue as muscadine.her cup full up she turns her gaze to fleshto take from me her pound, then two, then five;to rake thin fingers cross the scalp and threshmy hair, like wheat, to pay some holy titheand clutch me like a candle through the night.at morning light she pinches out the wick:she spends me, bends me down as acolyteto altars where her ash has settled thick in lungs and throat and shallow-thrumming heart, where all my lover’s love rends me apart.