In a misty forest of old-

Where her icy lake beckons the shackles on my ankles;

Anon barbed wires and muddies intentions-

Lay the King of All.

An outstretched hand grasping at his loyal mutts-

He is an ouroboros to humane desires.

Nay, a follower of Mammon dare he be.

Grapes, vines, and chalices lie insolent in the dust-

Burnt lips and angel feathers,

Entwined betwixt the old and new;

And what remains is but blue.

O my heart- behold how my tears trace their wayward paths.

They nip cold at my purple lips-

Could this be the waking of an age-worn curse?

O, am I but mist upon the mirror’s breath?

Why hast thou failed to find me

In this dim world of passionless apes?

I am paralysed by eternity’s gaze-

Yet frozen only from the waist below;

For my mind dares not unmake itself.

Nay, it’s an old friend,

Here lays my secrets

And here I take it to the grave of an icy lake.

The bang of drums,

They mimic my own faltering heart,

And so, my chest sinks lower with every breath I take.

For I cannot bear to not have you.

To be without you is torture

And I would tear sky open just for one glance.

One glimpse of hope filled in thine eyes-

Could bring the wrath of a million gods down.

For there is naught else I would not do for your love.

For you see, self-preservation becomes useless,

And my blood leaves a bitter taste in Dionysius’s mouth.

I hath sullied his grapes with desperation.

With a heaving chest do I place my faith in Gaia once more

Alas, my pleading eyes twinkle once more with newfound hopes.

Yet, I was stabbed as the sun went down on the hills of melancholy.

At peace, was something I never was meant to be.

Not in this lifetime, or the next.

Perhaps, that is my keepsake.

To be frozen and timeless in this lake

Is but a forsaken pleasure-

Would not Dante want to suffer such a fate?

Where intimate memories relay in mine bruised head.

Alas, mine heart seeks to escape.

Why hath you not found me?

Perhaps it would be cruel-

Maybe I am thine invisible shackles.

In a misty forest of old-

Where her icy lake beckons the shackles on my ankles.

Anon barbed wires and muddied intentions

Lay the King of All.