Soul Bruise

The blood red moon shines
with black radiance deluminating
and the shard-shaped sands
cutting underfoot harsh and grating
Bleeding feet walk on and on
for no other choice lies
And in agony alone
is pierced by birthing cries...

... the creation of Evil has begun

The Stranger

She is sitting for her usual cup of coffee in the evening, at the usual place; B____'s; and at the usual time 6pm sharp. However there is something different about her usual place: the desolate corner she is used to occupying is filled with a strangers presence on the adjacent booth. He is a an...unusual man. She watches his face hungrily, surreptitiously, furtively, but she struggles to remember details of what he LOOKS like. She sees the sharply angular, high cheek-boned face and the angular jaw. She thinks he is all angles and edges. Then she sees his eyes. She remembered very little about them afterwards. Almost nothing except that they hold her gaze for an infinitesimal shard of eternity. It is an instant that spells oblivion. He gets up, wipes his mouth with his napkin and walks off. He is unaware of what he has caused.

She finishes her coffee and for the first time, in the strict routine she has followed for the past 5 years, she sits idly in the coffee booth with her empty cup for company. She returns home at last dragging her weary body up the two flights of stairs of her small apartment. Once there she falls on to her bed and falls instantly asleep.

That day onwards her life has changed much. She now eats only enough to survive, nor can she sleep without the memory of his gaze: holding her, binding her to itself. She changes: becomes more indifferent, more insular. Her analytical abilities are not affected she works more brilliantly than ever, but she knows that her time is running out. She searches for him, sitting for hours at that booth but to no end. At last at the end of her limits of physical endurance, on the last day she will live, exactly one year after she met the stranger in that very place, she struggles to that booth, alone. And he is there, he is waiting for her. He smiles at her now and she sees that his eyes are grey like winter rain, like the sea before the storm, like the cloak of Hades... he is fading, all she remembers is a grey blur, she realises, just before all fades completely, that he is bending to kiss her.

The Nameless Ones

Faceless you appear
And Nameless
For a name is a mark of what you have lost
Your humanity?

Was it that even
For losing it was so easy?
Swayed by the shivering drops
Of honey on a serpents tongue...

Do you value life so much
That you seize others' in your hands?
Or is your cause so brittle
That it needs a pillar of Blood?

Force of Hand
Void of mind
Insanity where reason resides
Is this you?

Fools in your faith
In the words of others
And rotten in the core
Of your reasons shallow

The smoke of extinguished minds
As inconsequential wisps
And the gleam in a madman's eye
Your fanatical light

By the power of Mind
And Thought
And Reason
And Self

You are pronounced Nameless
You are henceforth Faceless
You are deprived of your self
And a blank where Soul should be

But in you school of thought
Perhaps this IS the ideal
Perhaps THIS is what you always wanted
To be... O Nameless Ones...