Dared I think life could be better than the books I lived in.
Like dear Mr. Pangloss my world has come a falling down.
I bid adieu to the night, to the creeping desires of the moonlight.
I take recourse in the leaves again, of autumn, of summer, of winter.
Rained it heavily, dawned it sensibly: some men never live, never die.
Souls tethered, circling eternally; drawing, redrawing Soul’s territory.
The wanderer sucked into one: the wanderer, he never belonged.
I hope now the leaves have some dew, or I’ll be left dry forever.

I promise to breathe fire
I promise to burn it all down
I promise to make you cry
I will fucking make you twine.

You thought you’d get away
this cruelty will not be just for me.
I promise to break your juices
and slosh them all over the walls.

You will not just get away
this bile has left its taste
now my bitter teeth
they ask for your blood.

I am gonna hurt you,
you’ll do all I want
I’ll fuck you till you die
then drink your blood like wine.

Oh this fire won’t be wasted in words
it will rage on, it’ll get its claws
screech it will on the walls
in your face, and drown you in the noise.

By your corpse when I stand,
with the sweet music of the queen of the night,
I’ll remember the promises I kept
the last one of which was to make myself forget.

Its not a song, ’twas ne’er a poem
its just a beat, its just the house
I don’t need a friend, enough of botherings
I said it was right, and still its a crime
its my universe, but the lies are not mine
I know some love, I need some shine
I need some poems to pass my time

I need my friend, the only friend
the happy days that just won’t end
I feel the wind, I feel the dawn
I need something new to get high on
they’re my eyes, but the view is not mine
I know some love, I need some shine
I need some poems to pass my time

And why really don’t I smell
a total bias or the holy truth
a poem dies but not the rhyme
and are you really afraid of the time
words are all lies, but the music is mine
I know some love, I need some shine
I need some poems to pass my time

Why I dies, why I slipped
a moth, the wings didn’t flip
can you see what they mean
can you just lose control, just trip
just lose the rhyme, but not the poem
the same place, the same time
a different day, a different line
no chorus that’s so divine
the dissolution, the resurrection time
views, lies, and the why of I dies.

Your father dies, your mother lies
the torture ends, some surprise
the curtain’s heavy, its dusty
is it the bias, or the biggest lie
of how I wrote of what was right
of how I lost my only delight
of how I lost my view, my sight
I raise a cry, but I won’t fight
And what do you think is the biggest lie?

This is a poem, ’twas ne’er a song
of how I lost the chorus in time
and was left alone to commit the crime.

Heather Rose

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Once a boy a Rosebud spied,

Heathrose fair and tender,

All array’d in youthful pride,–

Quickly to the spot he hied,

Ravished by her splendour.

Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,

Heathrose fair and tender!

Said the boy, “I’ll now pick thee,

Heathrose fair and tender!”

Said the rosebud, “I’ll prick thee,

So that thou’lt remember me,

Ne’er will I surrender!”

Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,

Heathrose fair and tender!

Now the cruel boy must pick

Heathrose fair and tender;

Rosebud did her best to prick,–

Vain ’twas ‘gainst her fate to kick–

She must needs surrender.

Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,

Heathrose fair and tender!

1779, translation by Edgar A. Bowring, 1853