A signature
    woven in regrets.

Collecting sorrowful
                   reflections.

Two rings unadorned,

Memories now hollow,

Gold brought,

Retrospection sold on for pennies...

I never know when I'm going to fall asleep,
and each dream I have is a nonsensical surprise.
I'm sure if I look hard the messages are deep,
but I never know what is true and what are lies.

When I'm awake I'm still always in bed,
each second I feel my soul drain more and more,
how strong does one have to be to defeat their head?
Or to not immediately drop down to the floor?

I'm cursed to be moved by many things,
and sometimes I'm not sure if I am real.
But still I rely on mood rings
to tell me how I should feel.

I like taking hot baths, so hot I can feel the burn,
'cause even when I'm feverish I can barely stand the cold.
My pink skin proves there's lessons some just choose not to learn,
and I'm not sure if it's foolishness or me trying to be bold.

Each season has it's emotion it brings,
and when they leave there's parts of me they steal.
But still I rely on mood rings
to tell me how I should feel.

I speak to the air that's around me,
pretending it's a ghost of the past.
Inbetween where dreams meet reality,
there's a depth that's so very vast.

I've always been one to fear change,
in a weird way I find comfort in the pain,
I'm not sure if that's common or deranged,
but the grass is always greener after some rain.

In stories both angels and demons have wings,
and both have someone to whom they kneel.
But still I rely on mood rings
to tell me how I should feel.

Wake up my precious girl,
Join me in this special world.
I love you endless like the sky,
I want to ******* till you die.

My heart beats hard just for you,
Whips and chains and buttplugs too.
I like it when you scream my name,
Till your forehead busts that vein.

All day you are on my mind,
Your secret ****** I will find,
Scratch my back and grab my head,
Make you *** and shake the bed.

Lay down and hold me tight,
Sleeping nicely through the night.
Wake up my precious girl,
Let's do it again, **** the world.

- R K

and the rain pours down
and the people are wretched,
the odds,
oh, the odds!

and a far trumpet announces
and they come
in their elegant cloaks,
their helmets,
their sandals,

each with a bow,
a quiver
of arrows,
and their leader
is regal,
blonde hair
combed tumbling
back,

& We have come
to help the
world of Men
he says
with a smile,

this Elric-like
warrior,
this so, so
appreciated
defender,
who later
will fall
all staggering
from blows,

& with a stamp
of their feet
they all about turn,
androgynous,
similar,
passive,

& they line
the walls
quiet
in the pouring rain,
& the hell beasts
attack
& their arrows
fly & fly
again,

but eventually
all will die
but
they have chosen
their side,

did what they
could ...
acted.

What slender strength once attainted to
reach forth, but now its feathers of life
have collected like a funeral pyre cremating
their existence to embers floating in limbo.

Her virtue swaying with every expiration,
cartilage falters dismembered from her form.
Hollow and barren. One moment of existence
still hangs on she is not yet gone.

That faithful breath falls on this day, a lonely
woeful tear leaves the nest. This inanimate effigy
now a husk of memories rings once worn now
stained. *She died standing up... she died alone...