WK
Bled By The Hapless
i-am-not--okay said:
"Still the Clockwork's Turning" holy frick it's so amazing. I just. Wow. Keep writing, please!! xo

What an endearing message! Thanks so much, I really needed that.

2
"Whispered words on winter’s breath,
Of all, you are deserving.
Foolish zeal for a marionette,
For you, the clockwork’s turning.

And when the voices sing to you,
And lavish songs are soothing,
Jam your heart into the clock,
But still the gears are moving.

Visceral soul bound by time,
You fight against the mirror,
Your love for her, was sweet succor,
The reflection dances clearer.

But steel yourself, the girl’s a blight,
And of all, you are deserving.
Keeps you up all the weary night,
And still, the clockwork’s turning.

Still the clockwork’s turning."
— (HH)
6
"Hand defensively on my head,
Angel’s gone but not yet dead.
Gentle lips against bruised arm,
Angel just could do no harm.
I sit beside angel’s tuft of wing,
I sit there crying and listening,
The news today was bad,
The news today was bad."
Songs for sorrow, (HH)
2
"Every tale a story told by voice and sung by pen,
A veil of black shooting down the strongest faith of men.
For there she was and it was true, the woman was malicious.
Hair of gold and eyes of pearl, they deemed her
The Beauty (in Atrocious!)

Beauty wasn’t fond of simply living,
She fought for the challenge of infamy.
She wanted power, she’d demand it,
Entrancing all that were listening."
— (HH)
13
"But I can see you’re sweating now, and the cracks begin to show,
Turns out you’re more human than you wanted me to know."
— (HH)
3
"The streets are blue, it’s raining you again,
Forget the sun, you’re right here.

Streetlights awash in dark, blue shades abound,
I hear the start, I hear the sound.

A voice in my head, whispers of you again,
I’m still right here… you beckon.

Spiders in my brain, weave tapestries to remain,
Paint your silhouette, in spidery veins.

It’s 3 AM, my heart is yours again,
Hold me tight and promise Hell.

Smile to me, show me how it goes again,
Anxiety to grin, again,
Again.

The streets are blue…"
Songs for sorrow, (HH)
8
"Inside the floating labyrinth, every corridor a tomb,
Of crystal chandeliers and cold and empty rooms.
The ghosts dance circles upon the dreary marble floors,
And if you plead for freedom, they will only show you doors.

Welcome to the Mansion of every Malintent,
It doesn’t matter what you had or how your life was spent,
If you’re here it only means you’ve come to repent,
And so it goes inside the Mansion of every Malintent.

The shadows act as rafters, the skeleton inside,
And long dead bones that hang there, drum their awful pride.
It doesn’t matter much how well it is you hide,
The watchful mass of demons will patiently abide."
For the halloweenies, (HH)
7
"I fell asleep at the foot of the bed,
Every word just like you had said.
All your thoughts, all my dreams,
Lost in a pirate ship of memories.

Is it too late? Have I lost my time?
Every voice singing gently with mine,
Perhaps I am lost, perhaps I am free,
When I’m not trapped in your Reality.

The brown turns gold, the green turns brass,
All the pilgrims walking en masse.
Perhaps we are lost, but somehow we’re free,
Shrugging off the shackles of your Reality.

I fell asleep at the root of a tree,
Lost in every word you said to me,
All my thoughts, all your dreams,
Lost in a pirate ship of memories.

The wind blows stronger, so angry it is with me,
Every word of anger like a shocking decree:
I hereby sentence you to misery!"
— (HH)
3
"He moves about the corridor,
In tired, languid stride.
The stone halls echo laughter,
For the secret he can’t hide.
The chamberlain is watching him,
With harsh but careful eyes.
They can’t know the demon,
But hear it’s loathsome cries."
For the halloweenies, (HH)
1
"Aghast at the chill that would strike at the bone,
The harlot remembered she wasn’t alone,
And with her blade struck against the cobblestone floor,
Again and again, and then once more."
The ghost and the harlot 2x7 (HH)
2
"Please don’t abandon me,
I sob as as I try to gather you,
Your crumblings, your remnants of peace,
Shards of laughter,
I clutch desperately at your mistakes,
Fumble after your bitterness and longings,
Your dark, quietly gleaming splinters of fear,
Without you I will have no one,
No one to bleed like me.
Please, I say,
And grasp at your falling fragments,
Don’t leave me here,
Not alone, no,
Not again.
What pieces I have gathered sing to me,
A baleful resonance.
But they are warm in my arms,
And forward I stumble,
Clawing the air in one last feeble attempt,
But I lose you.
All of you,
To that one insidious sliver,
Your fervent desperation.
And I am alone."
Songs for sorrow, (HH)
1
"She can walk circles around the thoughts all day.
Biting at her thumb, pause, back, and hit replay.
All she ever asked for was to be at home.
And when she did and there she was, she was left alone,
And now she wakes up in the morning tired of asking herself,
Should she put it all behind her or should she look for some help?"
Songs for sorrow, (HH)
14
"In the land of the blue in the hours of spirit,
The harlot cried out but no one could hear it.
And the devils in shadows that no one could see,
Were rapt in the torment of her memory."
The ghost and the harlot 1x7 (HH)
2
"Lonely little alley on the corner street,
Do you need a friend, would you like to meet?
I’ve got a date with a hoodie and some mp3s.
I could come over, you could sit by me,
We don’t have to say anything.

There’s a place I’d like to go,
Where the lights are dim and the souls are cold.

Sometimes it just makes sense,
To rid myself of consequence.

Crying little girl is your world unkind?
I like your style, you should come unwind.
I’ve got a date with a hoodie and some wicked rhymes.
I could come over, you could sit beside me,
We don’t have to spend the night.

Dark rundown dance studio,
Would you like a partner, wanna have a go?
I’ve got a date with a hoodie and a hurting soul,
We could dance fast or we could dance slow,
‘Cause right now I’m feeling low."
— (HH)
5
"I dream in this hole of mine,
A place I’ve made my own.
To most it would seem sanguine,
But to me I call it home."
— (HH)
3