Killer

Foundations

When the lights go out

I’m on your side

Sculpting the dark

In our favour

For I am the one

The monsters fear

I am the one

Who will not waver

An Eye Of Jade

And thus I created

In order to see

The hidden parts

Inside of me

The Senses

A trip through an electric space. Looking for what touches without physicality. Like a dream for open eyes and heavy hearts.

Layer upon layer upon layer, to maintain a certain dark simplicity

The Signs

“…you did more damage than that broken little mind of yours could even start to comprehend…’

‘…It was late one night when I heard this argument going on outside. Some lover’s tiff that sounded like it was amplified by alcohol. I was down to counting cigarettes as I didn’t have enough money to buy more and that sort of situation always puts me on edge. The noise outside was pushing me over that edge, especially as I was trying to compose music and find to the words to fit the mood…’

‘…I’d gone out for a smoke a few nights before. I’d stepped outside, pulled my hood over my head and lit up as was my routine on cold nights. I took a long drag then titled back my head to look at the night sky. The moon was crimson in colour. I’d never seen it that shade before and for some reason it sent a shiver down my spine…’

‘…I went outside to witness the spectacle. A drunk guy in the fits of jealousy, going on about how he was going to find the guy, that he didn’t care who he was while his girlfriend kept repeating that nothing happened. That she hadn’t even spoken to him. There were other people there trying to coerce him in to a car but he kept shrugging them off. That was until he saw me, standing on the other side of the parking area, watching and ready. His tone of voice changed this time as he asked his girlfriend if I was the him they’d been arguing about. She turned to look at me then paused a few seconds before saying yes…’

‘…They all left in silence.”

Redux

With numerous places to go but with no reasonable ways to get to them, the old mercenary brought the old ways from the old worlds to him and studied. Within the pages written by those who came before him he realised that he needed a bright star to illuminate his way. So he searched for faces among the millions until he reached the number 12. The beautiful, the talented, the intellectuals, the gifted and those who embraced life in all of its glory. Beacons of light for his nights in solitude and reasons to not let darkness invade every part of his psyche.

For the outside world they would be the masks to shield the few soft parts left in him and a definition of the feminine. Memory fragments of what he would have longed to have touched before the battles and the scars.

Words As A Texture

Primal Layer

A Letter

Dear Stranger,

It was the curse of a not so perfect stranger that put me in this situation. A promise founded on lies, deceit and a manipulation of the truth. I survived because I always do but found nothing but pain and sorrow in this place along with the echo of one word: Sorry.

After destroying all that was important to me she said she was sorry. She cried my tears, became the physical representation of what I felt deep down inside and said sorry. It felt like another dagger to the heart and for the first time in my life I felt pure unadulterated hatred.

Now I sit alone surrounded by imported culture to help maintain a sense of purpose but the truth is that all is lost for me on a personal level. There are no exit signs or brighter days, just my mind, my will and a planet that will keep spinning well after all of this is over. This situation, that she created, was her greatest mistake, for I was a child of the wilderness and like all wild creatures: backing them in to a corner is at your own peril.

Yours sincerely

XIII

P.S.: You are the root of my pain.

The Reflection Of A Son

A presence fills my lonely nights

And stays with me ’til dawn

As the moon reflects its distant light

And whispers

Hold on

Hold on

And so I see her face once more

A shimmer in these shadows

A key to hearts

Of lost delights

Standing

Firmly

Upon the gallows

XIII Redux

A choice of three faces

In a virtual space

As a mask for a man

At his dark sister’s door

Where the faintest of knocking

Can be heard through the screams

As he wonders if the nightmare

Can evolve into a dream

Where time moves so slowly

As the days race on by

And the touch becomes love

Never willing to die