As bubbles caress my skin Thoughts where darkness dwells Jostling towards heat Twisting and turning in his embrace And pain becomes pleasure Eerie emptiness sinking into horror Intoxicating the bitter sweetness Carving out the vision To see beyond my shattered drapery A tale that transcends death A beauty in melancholy Whispering to me tales of love Engulfing my heart with a woolen glove My body is nothing but a grave Haunting me with memories Like a dove in a cage waiting to break free Nay holdeth mysteries Like the wind whispering to the trees Leaving the dead to the earth And burying my sorrows Inside the tomb where my love is found And all that remains is a body Crumbling beneath the sorrows Marching towards never found happiness

Horror
Lunatics
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet are of imagination all compact. William Shakespeare Tonight the moon’s a-shining, So full