Bridging Gaps and Running Maps.

Reality is another game,

simply holding a serious name.

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Tilt

It gets easier,
Honestly it does,
It’s hard at the beginning,
It really does hurt and you want to go back simply because of the fear,
That unknown,
Of cutting the ties and jumping towards nothing,
Our psyche compells it,
For survival,
For living,
“What if I can’t go back?”
Who cares?
Who can change that?
The only way out, is forward.
Tilt.

Wilderness

A wolf behind bars,
A raven with wings clipped,
Trapped, landed and bound to earth,
Lovers lost and left unfound,
Faith intact and emotions unbound.
Whilst the Protagonist dies in the corner.
Of a World created by wilderness,
Strangled in the grip of evil and sin,
Assumed to be the path to love and freedom,
No desires for ought else than a lovers’ kiss ,
And yet death came with that wish upon the lips.

Take a picture,
Fix it up,
Remove any semblance of touch,
Bitter tears and sourer smiles,
Remembrance of man once loved,
We fear living more than we fear death,
But I shall make him my prince,
And love him harder than any can claim,
Freedom our kiss, and fate our sex.
An Embrace known to so few,
Delivered by a black cape and arms of bone,
Replaced by a gasp of breath and a craving for more,
Smile my dear, for you are the sun.
And I am the moon.
And together we shall run from nights into days,
Puncuated by swirls of fiery colours as you sleep and I appear,
Passion written across the sky in shades only known to air.

Sky or die.

I need to run away from the names that barely know more than my face,
And the faces I barely know the name of.
The people who think they know me, and the people who I think I know.
The smiles and fakery,
Elation and yearning.
The lack of honesty and broken promises.
See a new patch of the same sky, candyfloss dreams and blue seas of new names,
The same universe but different stars.

Sometimes to fly, or to die, merge into one path.

Mannaz

T hey say the pen is mightier than the sword,
But here I am alone with only words to mind,
No way to fight my way back to my own kind,
Those like me impressioned with Gifts, of gone days, old ways and mighty shifts,
In power and fate and movement of man,
Mannaz has it’s own path, through thought and memory,
Guiding wings of nightblack taken for an enemy,
A divine structure webbed and weaved, amongst truth and lies,
Invisible strings seen by those with spiritual eyes,
Buried deep within their psyché. Waiting to See.
To join them I must abandon the sense of my self.
And come to the Slaughter,
With Arms wide to life and death,
As one of Fate’s Daughters