Tonight I dine on ashes
of a youth long past taken.
As I sip strawberry wine of
a memory stolen by the Autumn
spring.

The sky becomes dimmer in
the bleak October night.
The shadows slither towards
me with their ink blacky desires.

Like velvet wax the melt
as they spread their forked
tongues along my dark pages.
The glow a silver color in
the cool night air.

As I wrap my fingers around
each word they ignite into
a flame that burns my mind.
Slowly madness creeps in
softly at first but only
for a moment before it slams
in like an unwanted guest.

The candle burns and maybe this
is the only light to save this
damned soul who finds nothing
but misery in the darkest hour.
Or maybe the light is myself
in a sea of madness and insanity.

I shutter to think the cold winter
days would become like this.
Where masks and shadows dance
amongst the living and the dead.
Where angels and demons bleed
together and confusion settles
in my head.

I am no longer a poet of a poetic
heart but a fiend of the most
treacherous kind that can only
rival poor Cain in his bloodlust.
I write for simplicity of the
sickness that drives my mind to
think outside the box.

10/07/2003

Posted on 10/07/2003
Copyright © 2024 Christopher Shin