of all wishes...this one's a curse

to all those whom this may concern:
and indifferent news of such.
one cannot lose touch
for the day after this,
the eleventh day of the eleventh month..
an honourary routine ,
marking my age...
my life has thus shortened by one year.
and yet i feel
as if i were dying right now
my faint pulse skips its eleventh beat
my lungs draw no air from my eleventh breath
and all those around me look at me and stare
a cold needle pricks my fragile hand..
i walk with him and his sickle..
so far
so long
into
the void.........

lady of hartz

prestige and honor could not compare
emotions gathered for this we swear...
harbored by the protection of others..

youth of thy fountain , follows thy spring.
autumn begins , edge of sixteen.
nations will bow , their heads in thy crowns.
gathering amidst the billowing clouds..

yesterday, she was but a needle in a hay field..
under pressure she fits into the family heirlooms...

in desperation the young prince searches but never finds
the love so strong had made him blind
binded by the iron shackles...
he risk his life of freedom to that of matrimony...
he lost his crown and all those around..
he has too flee from this wretched town
faster and faster they run and run.
until suddenly, she stops ..
stunned
shrapnel fell from high above plundering their lives now rested in dirt..
above them all a white rock had said here in lies the leader of dead...

cry out your joy (the immortal)

destroyed yet victorious..
his will dying off
his body slams down to the ground
grime on his forehead..
the scorching sun and hollow moons
..
he has to fight
for no one
not for his lover.
not for himself..
just fight
for the sake of fighting..
not to win..
but to make others lose..
..
he grips his stomach in one hand,
and weilds his blunted machete in the other.
he stands
the waves of unbearable torture..
..
each one not able to kill him..
..
he fights..
..
no more shame ..
no more lost love..
no more emotion..
his pupils dilate fully..
a soul-less being slaying away at mindless danger...
blunted
dulled
battered
crushed
bent
smashed

he stands up once more..
rips off his flawed armour
his perfect body unharmed..
an imagery of dorian grey.
he picks up the wooden stake he stabbed into the ground
plunges it into his chest cavity..
veridian larva gushes out...
his face turns a pale shade of cerulean..
his body floats away into the breeze as ashes...

calamity and disorder

queen of rose.
upsurpt from her throne.
yet still commanding the folks.
king of skies
tries his best to help with her difficult thorns.
all of rose , micromanaged...
the sky feels trapped and stale.
all the days seem the last too long ..
and hell begins to unfold...
and my blood,
trapped by the storm's close ..
shattered the thin taut rope

watchers

in this moment of gloried homicide,
i dedicate to thee..
in exoneration of a guilty reluctance..
my glorified existence comes crumbling down..
my tall gold-plated pedestal of sand..
triumphant i may be..
but the are not tears of joy..
for he has what i do not...
the true joy of this i cannot have..
the love of my life now left and buried..
..
on the tombstones i do read..
on her grave i will keep safe from harm..
her corpse of no more life will never be diarmed...
a victorious knight in white armour ..
now a necrophilic grave keeper...
but leave him be..
a necrophile swimming in the cauldera...

atop the pedestal composed of your fallen adversaries bodies.
claiming the sweet thick , viscuous honey nectar of revenge.
sweet delight to see them in virtual purgatory , as they burst into ashes in front of your eyes.
they never thought much of me..
they had always thought i was insignificant...
but i no longer care..
i will retain my self-respect and walk on through life with my head held high ,
whist using the skulls of cadavers as spittoons..
no longer...
if i have to walk through the life of victory alone then so be it.....
i am the victor now.....

my life

http://javin93.deviantart.com/art/the-beatings-136220560