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I Am The CaveDweller

My soul is bound to the comfort of night.
I see peace in the eyes of those walking in light.
Why is mine a lonesome, misbegotten path?
Bound to my darkness, with blackness, my craft.
They see vividly what I see in smears.
I'd rather be Blind, never seen it more clear.

I Am The DeathEater

My path, criticized. My love, mistaken.
My truths, demonized. My intentions, forsaken.
I exist in my very own questionable ways.
Is what they may say. But yet, either way,
They have failed to explain such a lack in my soul,
The obligation to judge someone's ways, or my own.

I Am The DreamKeeper

I only doubt the meta-space where I belong.
At any given time, my intention is not wrong.
Why am I undeserving of the blessing of eyes,
Capable of enjoying this dreadful paradise?
Designed in a way to be loved in its allure.
Yet my reality holds a truth morbid and obscure.

I am The FleshKiller

My outward darkness veils a radiant light.
For under the skin, I am truly alive.
Aware of the truths, of the infinite "you",
The finite "you" hides from others, and you.
I criticize my flesh as if I’m it's maker.
I'm ashamed of this life. But I'm not a LifeTaker.

I Am The LightBringer

The allure of light is heartbreaking.
As I remain in my statuette state of polarity,
I will only dream of me belonging.
It remains and sustains, acceptance and peace.
Yet for me, they remain just out of my reach.
I die by the hour while soaking in bleach.

I Am The FatePainter

I'm a sinful sonnet, a broken poem within.
With my creative means to my own creative end.
The TruthCraving LieBreaker, known as my head.
Screaming “This is the end. You'll never begin again..."
Yet I face another canvas, this in mind, for my sake.
Every stroke I can make, paints my darkest mistakes.

I Am The MindShaper

Limited possibilities of existence make me numb.
I understand every start brings a darker outcome.
Is there really no promise, of existential peace?
Can a bright soul, entrapped, ever be set free?
I only question form, from within this faulted case.
In metaphysical space, I've been put in my place.

I Am The EndSeeker

I cannot obtain, what I have never seen.
To live and show love is to live a true me.
I'm a creature of creation, On this abysmal planet.
I'll orbit the sun, I will suffer, then I'll vanish.
I float above the black. Trapped below the white.
****** hands washed with tears, as I carve out my light.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
She came to me, with a vial of dust.
A means of a healing, the taste was like rust.
Her wings, her secret. Her halo gave no light,
As my desperate song found her ears in the night.

I knew what she offered. I knew the whole game.
And yet, I moved forward—a moth to a flame.
Her vial sparked flares that pierced through the black.
I knew in that moment; I’d never look back.

An ember lit the dust, its smoke filled my being—
An offering to the soul, to keep it from leaving.
Each grain was a vow. Each breath was a sin.
Yet a life that laid to end, now stood to begin.

But when the dawn broke, she was no longer there.
Just poison on my breath and dust in the air.
I did find the vial, but no other trace.
Just a void in the air and a numb, rusty taste.

I walk the dark path. Her whispers, my guide.
Chasing silence, so me and my demons can hide.
She gave me the calm in a handful of ash.
For once, I have laid down the guilt of my crash.

I'm addicted. I still sing that desperate song.
Here to stay, where I may, or I may not belong.
A forbidden solace, that keeps me in the calm.
My shadow that still tries to pull me along.

I remain tormented, so this dust stays near.
Angelic in essence, how it banishes fear.
This angel didn’t save me. For this, I have sight.
But gave me the will to outlast one more night.

By day, perceived evil. By night, purely good.
Should I alter my state? For a will to live, I could.
Might someone judge me? Who’s to say it's not right?
To choose life one more time and keep carving out light.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
To be as The Moth, born to the dark.
A fleeting fragment, a flickering spark.
To live life alone and die by the flame.
To be its own shadow. To not have a name.

Guided by stars too distant to hold.
To exist as a soul, that exists all alone.
To run into hiding by dawn’s first light.
To be haunted by, and to haunt all in sight.

Each light forms a lust that burns like a vow.
A promise of warmth that its fate won’t allow.
With wings, so fragile, that are pinned to this fate,
Its destiny cursed like sins born into saints.

Not resting at night, nor waking in peace.
For the pulse of the glow, we know, doesn’t cease.
To be called to the light as it paints life black.
To be deemed punishable before any ill act.

Yet The Moth questions nothing, asks nothing in return.
Never questions its darkness, or why the light burns.
A creature that lives in desperation of the night.
A creature that dies by desperation for the light.

Its symbolism, carved in my endless pursuit.
My shape stitched into the seams of The Moth's truth.
A life chasing embers no matter fate’s cost.
To be as The Moth, to find only what's lost.

Just like The Moth, I was born to the dark.
A fragmented soul with a flickering spark.
To live life alone and die by the flame.
To be my own shadow. To forget my own name.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
I am not whole. I am fragments, arrayed.
I fade into gray. The dusk steals day.
A shadow in time, I drift out of scope.
I'm lost in some void I've created to cope.

Am I real in the moments when I am not seen?
I'm dead in my light, two souls caught between.
My thoughts twist and turn like an entangled thread.
I'm alive and I'm dead, both only in my head.

My truth has been lost, Identity unclear.
A haunted soul screaming that only I hear.
My sight is obscured. A curse left me torn.  
I'm the dead that I mourn. I'm the living unborn.

Through time’s endless loop, I twist, and I bend.
In stories untold, cause they’re never going to end.
My mind shifts dimensions, untethered and free.
Yet bound by the question, “What’s really left of me?”

My past echoes a dead voice that remains.
An unobserved self, that's still screaming in pain.
There's a rip in our fabric, a crack in our sky.
His dreams are now shrouded, the nightmares are mine.

I’m a riddle I've created, that I can't even solve.
I fall like the snow, I silently dissolve.
I grasp at the stars, but I'm burned by their light.
My Passions, like flames, smothered from sight.

Not of the flesh, the blood, or the bone,
A desolate recluse, that never feels alone.
I speed through the night just to die every day.
I'm valued for words, till there's nothing to say.

I'm the outlet for a lonesome omni-God.
Caught between the real, the imagined, and the fraud.
I vanish so quick, like the smoke from my lungs.
The thoughts I can't translate, I'm thinking in tongues.

I ask who I am but never give Myself answers.
My condition never ends. I'd rather it be cancer.
I'm nothing but a ripple of thought in my dreams.
Then the moment I'm seen, I lose everything.

Through layers of time that I cannot perceive.
Bound by the question, “What’s really left of me?”
A shadow in time, I'm drifting out of scope.
Tangled in entangled strings, lest I hang from a rope.

♦ Đerek Λbraxas ♦
Ahmed Gamel Mar 25
Don’t look at the sky, deceiving skies,
The world will end, you may gonna fry.
Get ready—don’t cry,
God is the trust in the darkest minds,
Don’t get too close, or God will cry.

Things crumble, crying skies,
Land sheeps, all so dry.
When no god, no man shall ever die,
All eternity—a whisper of flies.
God sees when sight has,
If God sees, why for a change
Do we pray without a lie?
No man shall live for a lie.

In God we trust, but us, we lie.
Why create God in a world full of eyes?
All can see, and none can die,
Unless you see none is there to actually cry.
Yet all are there when all lie,
Of a being falling from the sky,
Teaching us of past tribes,
How they lived and others shall die.
For them we save, and us, we try,
Can lie to death but still can’t die.

None can sleep after they try
To know God and find the lie.
That all was God—and still we die.
On land we stay, no heaven, no cry,
None shall lie when lands dry.
Souls forgotten still live in lies,
To others bring evil in the trial,
To get wins to the same lie,
And it ends in one scene—
All say, "Why don’t we say one little lie?"

Again, God lies to the ones who die,
They still cry, and they can also lie.

May God see—and choose to die.
"A moment of revelation, a whisper from the void. Written in the dark, in a trance of thought and fear. Read it—if you dare to question."
"CAUTION:
We live in a two-dimensional world;
we are not used to depth."
We are all the villains,
of a poorly told story.

According to them:
The revolver sleeps,
with me under the pillow.

Nightmares,
dream of me.

I feed soup,
to the Boogeyman (and he doesn’t complain that it’s cold).

The ghost in my room,
leaves the light on (and asks to switch rooms).

I ended the war,
without firing a single bullet...
because the tanks surrendered via WhatsApp.

The devil,
offers me his soul.

The Grinch,
leaves me presents,
with the receipt for exchange.

The Bogeyman,
asks me for love advice.

I follow,
my own shadow.

Death,
asks me not to seek her.

And the end of the world,
says,
"See you later."
J Bjork Mar 19
Everything is different,
aggravated noise is swept
off into the distance
I wanted quiet, here it is,
and I still can't relax
as questions persist
over an everlasting cause
while answers dance
beyond the hanging clouds
of resistance,
showing that I make choices
but don't really know
what's missing

My life is a constant
reminder
of being trapped in a blind spot
from the bind of one’s own
imperceptive thoughts-
it’s a feat of escape
to consciously accept
what might be an earthquake
because I'm mental,
I'm down,
and I'm about to break
but this only makes it harder
to alleviate

It didn't matter when
I was young,
I could run faster then,
but inevitably
wherever you go
there you are

So I lose patience,
looking at the sign
telling me what I already know:
I'm stuck in misery's
afterglow
wondering why I
go out of my way
to make being alive so hard
by spending all of
my time alone,
hiding in the dark
02/18
JL Vega Mar 18
time will grind these words into the sand
thoughts will join the detritus of solar winds
the inevitability of a reckoning is yet to be realized
for there is no stasis only chaos and entropy
we exist only within the parameters of a porous fabric of time
which in itself is only the figment of an imagination
of a universe unawares that it is only temporal
subject to the forces that slowly dissolve castles made of sand
only to be swallowed up by a rising tide and swept out to the sea
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