RogueArtist's blog

Caged eyes,
Heart fading fast and
Nothing to his name but a cigarette.

Iron hands,
Reasons to the bullet and
Deadly intent.

A machine built for the ages.

i.

Cracking hands,
Splintering bones and the
Rapture of war.

He raises the souls buried in snow.

ii.

Hollowing ribcage,
A saint's prayer and the
Quiet betrayal of his own mind.

He loses himself in the red.

iii.

Eyes like scarecrows,
Heavy is the cross on his arm and
Burdensome, unrelenting.

He withers in the wake of mortar-fire.

iv.

Curses kept close,
Steadying breath and the
Grave of innocence.

He bears a company of skeletons. Read more »

bigger knots in my throat -

deeper cuts and shallow breathing
i count your ribs and
you shiver

tighten the thread, love
i can still breathe.

There are perfect engravings in the marrow of my bones where he's carved the story of fallen grace—flesh and soul and light. My blood is singing his song while he unfurls seven shredded wings like beautiful, stolen dreams.

Blue eyes melt through a severed skull and heartseams part into rivers of crimson devotion. Ivory skin turns to charred steel with festering scars that evaporate into the rotten atmosphere, poisoning a pair of jaundiced lungs.

I'm in love with the devil himself—flames and smoke.

blue moon
bruised eyelids and
stars shine down on her when she smiles

paper cuts
pale fingers and
red drops on book pages

A soul of iron,
A soul of stone,
He bathes in blood,
And battles with bone.

He knows your fears,
He knows your thoughts,
He keeps your demons,
Your nightmares he wrought.

No revenge,
No remorse,
Your darkest wishes,
Become his source.

For pain is glory,
And revenge is sweet,
He cannot see reason,
He cannot be beat.

So beware all those who wander,
Too far from rhyme and sense,
For you will find yourself alone,
With little at your defense.

Keep your eyes open,
For he can see you in the dark,
And draw your sword in desperation,
Because you are the prey,
And he is the shark.

Beware you pretty fools,
You know not what you do,
To act upon your past,
Will be the death of you.

A little boy lost his ghost,
Can't find the meaning.
It calls his name,
Through all its pain,
But he's not hearing.

A man lost his ground,
He knows he's rusting.
The sky goes black,
When she comes back,
He is far from trusting.

A little girl lost her soul,
Her mind is reeling.
The Devil's grin,
Her bones too thin,
But she's not feeling.

A woman lost her faith,
She slowly withers.
Her God is calling,
As her heart is falling,
But she just slithers.

I found them dead today,
Their eyes were taunting.
And even peace,
Seems well at ease,
But I know they'll haunt me.

Man of gold,
Man of stone,
Become the smoke,
Hollow the bone.

Heart of lead,
Heart of flame,
Take no prisoners,
Die in shame.

Soul of iron,
Soul of ice,
Love the Devil,
Pay the price.

Blood of hunger,
Blood of hate,
Leave the light,
Bear the weight.

Man of gold,
Man of stone,
Lost your faith,
You are alone.

If I were to leave young,
younger than I was when I came here,
I'd have only a few things to tell you
& they would be... Read more »

I would never have you remember someone
with such whip cuts on their back,
obviously proving they are untrustworthy.

I can feel myself slipping away
in what little skin I have left
to the doors where someone will hopefully greet me.

Keep your entrails,
I have no need.
Keep your fluids,
I give no heed.

Choke you I will,
Just for me.
Kill you I will,
Watch you bleed.

Dark are the days
You wander alone.
Thin are the blankets
You have sewn.

Stained with blood
I swear they'll be.
Every single stitch,
Soon you'll see.

No knife or ax
That I will use.
It is my fingernails
That I choose. Read more »

i.

You're clearly locked away,
in a coma of empty words
& unheld hands.

However much time you take
will reflect your judgement
of the good & bad.

ii.

Make your accusations,
take your misunderstandings,
& run with them,
far & away.

I can't possibly run a road
invisible, because it's [clearly]
not there & neither are you.

iii. Read more »

I'd wrap you in safeness if I could,
but you're just so far below,
& I don't feel like going to hell & back only for you to pull away.

 "Let us take a moment and bow our heads," said the priest.
For the young ones, I thought, lost long ago.
For the old ones, I thought, forgotten like their years.
I bow my head for the soldiers, who give their lives.
I bow my head for the women, who must be brave.

& for everyone, I thought, who needs a second chance.

  Read more »

 Your tender skin is weathering
& damned if you'll take another
on the chin.

Every time you're throwing dirt
you're losing ground.
I'm not the one you want to hurt
but I'm the only one around

& you're losing ground.

As time slows down & life speeds up, there is no free moment to do what we want, but only what we have to & we put that off until the last moment when the realization we've wasted our whole lives hits us like a sonic boom.

 She has never felt this alone. She has never been this alone. An undercover agent who hasn't been in the field for six years, she needs something to bring her head back to the real world. Under her skin lays a heart attack, ready to strike at any minute. She needs a move, a way in. Please, somebody.

  Read more »

There's a man who loves everyone somewhere deep inside that pea-sized heart of his, but a nationalist lashes out on his exterior. He chastises, he criticizes, and he won't let your race slip past his always watching eyes. Whether you're black, white, pink or maroon, he'll as you to drop what you're doing [..yes, drop it, sonny] and come for questioning. He doesn't care who you are or if you're loyal or if you're honest.

  Read more »

 Waltzing with an air unbreathable by most, spreading rose-scented perfume across the ballroom with her invisible partner. She dances silently, four inch heels without sound on marble flooring.

She is but a ghost amidst the others. A baby pink dress just above the knee, hair tightly pulled back in a bun, she dances. Twirling and bending and moving like no one else is even there. She is but a ghost to us, we are only ghosts to her.

  Read more »

 My bench was empty, sitting there all by its lonesome. So I took myself that morning and went for a visit. It's been nearly a year... Two strangers once sat here and shared a humble conversation with me, both revolving around pigeons. I had told those strangers of a theory I had about new people. How they were my friends, and that I loved them.

  Read more »

 He's kind of obsessed with this TV show that everyone kind of forgets the name of. But he knows there's blood and guts and bombs and clouds of sulfur everywhere so he watches it. He lives in his own world, not responding to those around him because they're too confusing. They speak too much, they speak too fast. He cannot sit there and wait to understand so he tunes them out.

  Read more »

 She's a rough looking girl-- a curly haired, green-eyed, pale and pasty looking girl. She dreams in polaroids and pastels of greens and blues. If she takes her time, sometimes she can see into people's souls, through their eyes and all that. She can dance her way through the streets, not even receiving a single glance from the zombie like men and women who walk them. She's that girl who's there, but never there; her head always full of black ink that she happens to splatter on her clothes (just for fun.)

  Read more »

 Kicking up dirt with my feet,

I visit the old carousel in Kiethville that

my mom used to take me to on

weekends.

It's broken and torn and ugly and

broken, reminding me somewhat

of a childhood that I don't want

to be reminded of.

The sun is hot, melting the wax

horses and their finely made

wax saddles, dripping with soft

trickles on the stirrups.

The beauty of it going away is

wonderfully and magically

entrancing

and I find myself staring at my Read more »

 Take the failure
by its heartstrings
& yank hard so it feels
what you need.

Take it & never let it go;
remake that building
in Chicago I don't
even care to
remember the name of,
& with failure it
shall rise to be
successful.

 When he found his daughter sleeping
in her true love's arms, he took
his daggar and cut deep into their
hearts, because she should have
not been afraid to tell him of the
man, whose dead arms now she sleeps in.

 I keep looking over my shoulder for monsters. Today, for instance. I was walking down Kenwood Road and I thought someone was following me, so I looked. There was no one there, of course. No one ever is. This is only in my head. I explain this to many people who see me look over my shoulder an unfathomable amount of times, and then they try to explain to me the definition of "crazy" or "weird".

  Read more »

She's a little hard to the core,
blunt, an emotionless girl
with very few goals, one of
them consisting of others
knowing she will not be as
kind as they'd prefer.
She's a little rough-edged, like
a piece of freshly broken
glass, an anger managment
patient (and is frankly still
waiting on that stupid doctor
to atually show up.)
Recently a person, one who
only happens to exist
in her mind,
recruited her for a job only
meant for a shallow-skinned Read more »

Sorry this is late - I only just realized what I wanted to say to Harry.
-RA

 *************************

 Dear Mr. Harry Potter,

I have some things to say to you. Alright, you can bring Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, and whoever else you want over here, but I want you to hear this. Read more »