Untitled 2004?

This bosom’s heart is waste

Like a fetid swamp it tastes,

And smells of rotted meat

No liberty too great

Or soul too strong to take

Can rescue me from this

Grave of my own digging

Mountains crash and burn

A virgin’s blood will earn

Some respite that longs

To seal your fate

Winters god will call

Heavens hark of brass

To ring in your ears

Till from them bleeds

Your tears

Surrender 8/06/03

My egregious fears

Rest inside my soul so sweet

And take from me

My tears and meet

The angels that do sit

Outside my window

But inside I dwell

Within a pit;

Above me rides

A dangerous spectre

Of demons’ shadows

And deaths knell tolls

For me I know

The reaper comes

And with his whisper

I succumb