Black Gate

This is a poem that, may I just be honest... is heavily dark and heavily influenced by my weird obsession with death lately and also how it relates to seasons. Enjoy or don't.. It's all good.


Black Gate

Come and take my hand,
grip my soul amongst your vice
and tear it apart a little more.
It's like your frantic dance of guilt.

Unravel my seams,
with words that cut like ice..
Caustic, your voice burns my will,
dying in a casket of malcontent.

O' Blackened gate,
would you open your eyes,
and shower your darkened gospel,
so I may rest eternal
in your protective embrace.

May guilty conscience,
end in the waning summertime,
to drown your fairy tale
in rainy sorrow.

Write a forlorn ending,
with pages stained with tears.
Your fantastical images swirled away.
to face harsh reality alone.

Blackened gate,
would you open your arms
and petrify us with withered touch-
so we might go peacefully to oblivion,
away from reality in denial.

Quiet rest beckons menacingly,
a gental touch of a skeletal finger,
drumming in final judgment,
the weakness of mortality.

And I'd watch you wither,
flesh cerulean with grey ice..
Beauty forever preserved
in ever decaying time.

O' Blackened gate,
would you open your heart,
and take me away too.
So I might say farewell to flesh,
and paint memorial in everlasting beauty.