Asphodel Mazes.

Purring wind subdues my night,

Whilst my soul endures her fight,

Triggering jowls of vexation, 

Scarlet falls blurring my sight. 

And she pulls me to her loam,

Bare and hollow, just like me,

And I baptise it as my own home,

Craving to set myself free.

And my wounds brighten with beauty,

And my bawling voice is true,

And my sharp-edged inspiration,

Gathers my clot down to you.

Thus in welcoming descant,

Chiming cyclones chant outside,

Hence I lacerate my pike in two,

As wine splutters far and wide.

Dreams, they say, prove us alive,

Nonetheless, I feel deceased,

For such peaceful compensation,

Holds the finest of all deeds. 

And I drift away in rapture,

As life spills in scarlet falls,

And the breezy choir of muses,

Welcomes me across its walls.

For my wounds shine in pure beauty,

And my clot of blood is yours,

Since I am part of your Infraworld,

Gladly docking on its shores.

Addah Monoceros

Note from the author: I insidiously wrote this poem during a bromidic History lesson at the age of fourteen. It was a time when «darkness» somehow seduced me, engaging myself in an identity crisis which subsequently evolved into an almost fanatic devotion towards goth and emo idiosyncrasies. It is therefore not the best of my written work, yet it displays, on the other hand, how malleable teenage personalities can be, and furthermore how much artistry can, indeed, be held in «dark» poetry, considering there is passion and incentive when writing it.