The Tome

MIDNIGHT TIMES | THE TOME | EPIC CAFÉ | WEBHEAD

WASTELAND

(for Louis)

April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain. --T.S. Eliot

UNTIL DEATH DO US PART
As oblivious existence
slowly fades from lonely pages
I find what I believe in is
an empty endless fate smoking
illusions of hollow pipe dreams
blue wisps that always float away
becoming incandescent waves
of running water rocks worn smooth
inside cascading caves so dark
fall ceaseless drops of crystal time
that drip like centuries of tears
a neverending sleepy flow
the blindness of my years behind
dark images a dream sublime
thoughts drifting through this evil mind
of worthless broken memories
majestic as this black disease
I give to you to set you free
from mortal death's confinements let
me hold you in my cold embrace
and feel your warm heart melt as I
return your soul with long dead blood
and give you black vicissitude
immortal death and true desire
a dozen blackened roses lie
upon this grave I've built for you
eternal tomb of loneliness
I'll lead you through this deep darkness
together with the night alone
we'll drift forever through hell's fire
with misery and empty hate
reflected depths in burning eyes
that open with the coming days
we float beyond the evening clouds
above delusions dying light
and fade into dark sunset rays
that disappear without a trace
dissolved by one long endless night
upon an ancient mountain top
ascended by my desperate flight
where gnarled and rotting twilight trees
suggest to me eternal sleep
this void that I have lost you in
the twisting mix of falling leaves
and you, my love, why did you leave
and stone me with this misery?
I wait for one who'll never come,
and what will never be.

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