She fell in love with poetry
because it was the
only thing that she allowed
to touch her skin, with
only the soft words, and subtle
touches, that she pulled from
the darkest parts of
her damaged heart.

Lone Wolf

Trace the crimson threads of my sanctity dripping pass my thick velvet fur. The life draining out of my torn veins. I’m losing heat. I’m feeling me!! I long to cherish the fall. But I can’t afford a halt!!… 
Sprint arrow has pierced my shoulder. Spilled my blood on thirsty gravel. It got soaked like mid day sand. I howl my plea! I ask my treasure back! Blood once spilled, cannot be undone. Looking back is a lavish bargain with fate. My existence is my sole possession. When I lose, I cannot afford to grieve!!

I squeal. I stumble. I run… 




Song of a decaying soul…

I am no dear to you maiden..

I am death in a veiled mask…

I am a howling storm yet to crack upon thy sullen kingdom….

I am angel of destruction


I ramble in thy vignetting reality…

My wings grows thin… Feathers turn to ashes,
I wait a million years for you to serve justice…
I die every second of it outside the fortress…