[x]

The soul eaterMy eyes plunged into thy soul
A hand on thy countenance
The other who tears thy heart

Thy blood flows abundantly on the floor
You cry, you scream with the help
Silly, it is too late

Tomorrow, an innocent woman will be like you
Mesmerized and trapped in my sharp claws

Gothic CinderellaGothic Cinderella

Cinderella wanted so much to go the Gothic ball
But she had chores to do
And her step sisters kept finding more to do
She wanted to listen to Nightwish and Within Temptation
While her sisters listened to One Direction
The sisters dressed in high street fashion
They shopped at Miss Selfridges and Next
Cinderella liked gothic clothing
Victorian cloaks with white frills
She had piercings and wore combat boots
The stepsisters did not approve
They thought she was strange
Perhaps on the borderline of insanity
They always picked on Cinderella
They were both going to the Gothic Ball
Even though they didn't like the music
It was the

How MaddeningDimensional relevancy paid with merely an eye, birthed from exceptions and death's cauldrons; shriveled of a blank sigh.

Two eves of shaded winters locked thrice in their places, an ocean of clear tongues to drown; blessed with the graces.

Mere conceptions of insane peculiars, with their masks and crippled boxes, of whom they speak die freshly in rugs, bleeding deep within the poxes.

And explain why are these relevant, who binds them all within blinds, a mere widow of subconscious keys; the mask without the eyes.

WordsTaking your words I crumpled them up, and put them in my little woolen pocket, every step drags

Me down for I know, I am going to have to carry them about somberly in the breeze, such pain is not

Escapable, for words clench the blood out of my heart, leaving it only to be severed with the rest of

The organs to follow, such words consume me like a dark plague, with nowhere yet but to scurry to the

Walls of my brains, knowing now what must be done, taking a knife as a relic of nonexistent fear, cutting

Only deep down to make a hole, in hope longing pain goes out, my eyes burn with lasting joy as I watch

The words fall with drips of blood,

LinesSeeing through it all can be an everlasting savior, for those left who cannot, such fear comes to be

Inescapable to the eyes, one more to creep over into its place, taking time away with every glance

One more to tread, bitterness succumbing every step a maze of lengthened simplicity, wrapped into

Hallucinations of a morbid mind crossing the streams of living, watching the lines in the world passing

Slowly by searching only to waste time, for they are never going to change, the moments come and go

Only to leave, the mind troubled with voices festering in the immorality of fear…..

313

My eyes have found the bottle,
Half full with a proclaimed solution. Consumption is my body's only need...withdrawal, it's demons kept at bay only by repetitive submission...

The bottle stares back with lifeless, nonexistent eyes...a thousand yard stare only to find me in my own mind, staring at a broken mirror at choices of mere potential...a clap of thunder snaps me from hypnosis.

A sweat grows from the soil of my pours, as my ears pick up the screaming demons drawing closer by the second...insanity is the flare that they so love to follow to my place of solitary self torture.

Closing my eyes only grants those demons the images they wer

Little wings of white flamesGo ahead and feed the beast with bitter sweetness, and watch it come out of me and tear you to

Pieces, I am but a limp and frail ghoul hiding away in the darkness, licking away my wounds as my

Lips turn saturated red, that is why every single night I run and hide away from such ideas of mine,

As they try to take me down while trickling down my spine, when the pain comes out it will creep

Upon your skin and percolate the mind, causing you to screech in fright, running around looking for

A way to escape, and I will be but dust in the remnants of the shadows, looking in the gates for my

Little wings of white flames….

Night of the 13thNight of the 13th
Lines on the Wind
That night, the whole community was still
As though a strange event would befall
Then there came a solitary voice
'T was neither man nor woman, nor child
They all had gone inside and locked their doors
Nay, 't was the wind
How oft of late have I heard the voice?
I swear, it knows my name
Who could have told it?
The wind, it is a westerly flow
It has blown for many a night this week
Is there not a cemetery yon,
Somewhere in the distance, to the east?
Perchance, as it crossed a solitary grave
Someone there poke my name
When the body feels a chill, we wear a coat;
When the heart feels the chill, what can we wear?
Hark, now the wind is rattling my door
It sounds as though a hand is knocking
It has called my name again
Ah, what can this portend?

Burial if you find this

please

cremate my feelings

put my thoughts in a mausoleum
bury my heart in a wooden coffin

dump my soul into the sea

but

just leave my body here.

Treated like a StrangerMerciless creature you have bitten off my wings and devoured them whole, in promise that my hope

Would be gone, you left me for dead in this dreary pool of blood, why do you treat me like a stranger,

What did I do to deserve such silence? why can we not be more than this, if you want to play then I’ll

Pretend and have it my way, I will tape your mouth so I can say I have won, nothing pays to have such

Silence of yours, and see your cunning eyes go back into your skull, I am but a joker and you are the

King mocking me with your surrounding peasants, but you just wait for such mockery will lead

To your undoing……

War and DeathWar was one a game
A game with sticks and toy guns
It didn’t mean anything
Now war means everything
War invades our minds
Intrudes on our hearts
It is no longer a game, but real
Where people get hurt
Where people really die

Death was once just a word
A word with little meaning to me
It didn’t have meaning
Now death means everything
Death kills our joy
Murders are love
It is no longer just a word, but fate
That leaves people hurt
That leaves people dead

War and death is all too real
To real in our lives anymore
War is everything
Death leaves nothing
War captures our minds
Death drowns our love
They are no longer games or words, b

DespairAcross the bellowing sky comes abroad and leads to a road, full of longing screams and cries, with voices

Telling curious souls not to go farther for they will become perished with bellowing plagues accustomed

To the lurking sonnets, hoping such ones will come to take away their sins, and free their lost locked

Away minds, a recipe for despair over scourges the land, blinding already swelled bloodied eyes, such

Burning emptiness enters into this road of vile obscenities, only to swallow those up ablaze who are

Weak and inferior, whose hearts have already bursted open being liable to suffer….

Liar, liar, Soul on fireLiar, liar,
Soul on fire,
Now you hang
By razor wire.

You come to me,
Then try to run.
But you are caught
In my web of fun.

You return, yet again
To the towers three.
Your body and soul
Belong to me.

You try to lie,
But you only deceive yourself!
I’m no longer chasing,
Your no longer in health.

You don’t know yet,
Do you?
Well, let me show,
Walk on through.

Look around?
Recognise anything?
I’m sure you do,
I know you hear the blades singing.

You started off
In the towers,
And you escaped.
Or did you?

You lie, but only to you.
Who do you think your trying to fool?
Not me, not them, not you.
And now I say, welcome, to t

black maskmy mask laid in front of me,
right there, in front of me.

the mask I wore in the morning,
the mask I removed at night

come morning I was peaceful,
come night fall I was deadly

……….. oh……so…….deadly……..

shadows danced in vain to scare me away,
rats sank into their sewer holes,
moths dropped like flies at my feet
behold my utter--- black

mask.

oh, so funny the way they all run from me

the tenacious tickle down my spine- don’t make me laugh
don’t make me take of my mask.

sunrise comes
i creep under the bed,
the light is such an unwelcoming burden
the sun is certa

Too LateThe word by which all things are governed, whispered in my ear,
That when judgment day does come, I have much to fear.
Even if I were to conjure enough desperation
To allow myself to become better,
I would still not hear the beautiful tingling
Of soft angel voices
In my head mingling.

Smoky lips summon me from one direction then the next
Always down but it does not matter from east or from west.
They say that the divine one is in all places and things,
But I don’t think it is he
Who calls out to me my name,
And many other dastardly secrets
Far from that which was tame.

Red breath of intoxication waves around a blackening heart.
Used t

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Mask of Obsession

by ~GanonsPhantom, Aug 23, 2012, 3:47:34 PM
Literature / Poetry / Horror / Free Verse

An old mask you gave me long ago.

One made from a splintering wood.

The color a dark, rotting brown.

No smile carved onto its face.

   How I longed to see it smile.

I took my knife and created a grin.

One that resembled your own.

A crafty smile with a little taste.

   I wore it to sleep every night.

Each night I wondered how you dreamed.

If a nightmare fell, I would endure.

If dreaming sweetly, I could feel.

   I came knocking at your door.

Desiring to show you the mask's lovely grin.

The door was locked to keep me away.

I begged and cried to see your face.

   A tear of sadness touched the mask.

Behind the tear, anger did follow.

I removed the mask which you gave me.

I decided to finally erase the grin.

   Taking the knife from within my pocket,

I struck hard at the rotting wood.

You writhed and screamed from within your home.

No boundery would secure you from me.

   I took another stab at the mask's forehead.

The pain and suffering suddenly ceased.

I no longer needed the mask you gave.

Placing it on your step, I walked away.

   From beyond the door of your home.

From beyond what kept you safe and sound.

Your body lies dead, your face carved away.

The grin has forever been washed away.

Mask of Obsessionby ~GanonsPhantom

Literature / Poetry / Horror / Free Verse

Composed: Winter of 2012

Another little story I thought up.
I had a lot of fun with this poem... A man torn in obsession with the woman he once loved, and the woman who wanted nothing to do with him. Instead of giving the man her heart when they were once in love, she provided him with a mask. The mask was an empty, emotionless shell of her own identity...something she believed the man could live with. When he realized that the mask was meaningless, he put a wicked and obsessive emotion into it. When he stabbed the face of the mask, the woman could feel the knife striking her actual face. Even though it was just a mask, it was still a piece of her identity...and he was taking it all away.

Take from this what you may... and most importantly, enjoy!!

*CERose Aug 25, 2012 Hobbyist Digital Artist

Very cool. Reminds me of Poe.

I'm with you on the mask metaphor. They seem to show up in my work too.

~fireloup-garou Aug 23, 2012

Oh that was beautiful...ya know in a dark and twisted kind of way

~GanonsPhantom Aug 23, 2012 Student Artist

I know, right...

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Mask of Obsession

Mask of Obsessionby ~GanonsPhantom

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