Here upon the mark we stand
Moving upon a mysterious current
Weeping and laughing away the day
Until only shall we slumber

If you should stumble along the marvelous path
And claw your way across the stones
Let is not matter that your flesh rips clean
Nor the blood that shows the way

For to triumph against the tears and anguish
Whispering our names with an intake of breath
Wrapping arms around a redemptive soul
In the back of our minds to welcome us home

So take my hand and allow it to heal

Eyes open
Awake the cries die
No more now a echo in the mind

Blink
A flash
The dreams last crime

There
Wound wide
Pupils black total, wired

Moan
Wither
Back to the dream to die

Mind so full of pain it would break at a sigh
Rigid cold in the blackness short cries
Short gasps and moans , a breathe trying to find
A tender hand upon the brow slide

Flinch
Jaw clenched unable to release the pain
Not willing to
Safety in its certainy
Keeping the demon feed thus

All around, the mourners gather
My dread grows as the stroke of midnight
Falls against my stained soul
It severs me, and in darkness
My essence drips to the thirsty earth
In abject fear,
I beg for forgiveness
Now alone
My fervent plea falls upon blind eyes
This is my salvation

Fantasm
August 26, 2001

"Why looks my lord so deadly pale?
   Why fades the crimson from his cheek?
What can my dearest husband ail?
   Thy heartfelt cares, O Herman, speak!

"Why, at the silent hour of rest,
   Dost thou in sleep so sadly mourn?
Has tho' with heaviest grief oppress'd,
   Griefs too distressful to be borne.

"Why heaves thy breast?--why throbs thy heart?
   O speak! and if there be relief,
Thy Gertrude solace shall impart,
   If not, at least shall share thy grief.