Life could always be worse…..

HATE

My heart drowns
In a sea of
Despair and torment
The crimson tide
Washes the Hate
ashore.
Dip your feet
In for awhile
And then maybe
You’d understand
Don’t stay for too
Long
The Hate will soak
Through your skin
And seep into
Your veins

Rotting hands reach for you
From the depths
Scratching and clawing
Digging into your
Skin
They drag you deeper
Deeper into despair
Every last Hope falling off your skin
In a last macabre dance

Your screams of agony
Are echoed by the
Laughter of the corpses
My own laughter ringing
In my ears
Now you understand
Now you feel
But it is TOO LATE
The Hate has
Already made
Its home in
You.

The wind screams in agony
as the fire from your eyes fade.
The trees shake in terror
as blood spills from your heart.
The Leaves flee in fear
as your body collapses to the ground

My heart cries in misery
I collapse to the bloodied earth.
My knees soaked in the crimson river.
My hands search for your fading light.

Your shrieks spread through my veins
They lead me to your fading heart.
I seize your hand.
Your agony jolts up my arm
Causing me to shriek and jump back.

With no connection to the outside world
You fade into the crimson river of despair and sorrow
Your eyes the last to leave
Blaming me for this mess.

I wrote the first stanza after one of the worst days of my life. I was depressed and angry. Then the second day of poem writing made me fisnish the poem I didn’t want to finish at first. The last stanza is about my family. Well actually the last lines of the last stanza.

This poem is part of the “H.A.T.E” series. This is Agony for “A.” I will work on Hate for “H” the next time. Then Im either going to do “Twilight Scars”, “Torment”, or “Temptation” for the “T”. Then I will write “Escape” for the “E”……….don’t tell me I need counseling because I already have it………Bye!

“I shall call you my black rose
My Lord, My King.

My heart beats for you.
It beats for your touch,
your voice, your smile.
It aches for your love.

Your Light feeds my soul. The Light penetrates
the shadows that dwell within.
The Hate that seeps through
My veins fade slowly.

Your blood, it intoxicates my senses. The Taste
makes me crave more. The Color
reminds me of ripened cherries.

Your eyes invite me. The fear
and excitement that
drown them draws me.
We clasp hands waiting for
the black moon to rise.”

I was writing this poem because I was angry with my ex. Typical, huh? But I was also missing him at the time too. The first stanza was sarcastic and the second was how my heart was really feeling. And then I let my imagination go on a joy ride and just made it sound more mystical and less typical. Now it is for my story. Im going to have it as an oath she has to say…..or she dies……or becomes a feral vampire…..either destiny is scary……..but TATA! for now

Well I was going to research the poets, [insert names here]. Oh…….ummm….. right now I cant seem to say the poets names off the top of my head. Its time to go dig in the attic of information (the computer). To open the door to the room and pass the boxes labeled internet, e-mail, pictures, music, my computer, and Recent documents. Don’t stop walking until reach your destination, which is the treasure chest named documents. The heart beats faster at the sight, maybe the wonderful word document that has the names of the poets is in it. Lift the lid of the chest and try to stifle the groan. Ugh, there is nothing but folders and useless word documents…….but wait! There it is shining in its glory of information.

Ah…. Now I can tell you the poets I am going to research. The poets are,….dun….dun…dunnnnnnn, Robert Penn Warren, David Lehman, and Andrew Marvell. I want to research these poets because their poetry just seems to jump off the pages and smack me. Metaphorically speaking that is. Right now I’m leaning towards Robert Penn Warren. I don’t know but his poetry seems to speak to me the most.

The last two discussions were interesting and actually, sometimes, hostile. If I remember correctly we got in a huge fight over blue plums…… how lame is that?….I mean seriously. If the poet wants to put someone playing with blue plums then so be it…….But the rest was informative.