shadow

the boredom following the kill

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

I'm not sure where I go from here,

with no demons left to exorcise

and no skeletons left in my closet,

I debated borrowing some of yours

for at least a few days

or helping you.

 

Like Abraham Van Helsing,

I find myself onto other endeavours,

as this vampire has been slain,

but it was never my full-time profession

and only occupied my life for a few years,

not the first or last conundrum to arise

in an ever-interesting world.

 

Maybe I am more  V,

Shadow

or Paradise Lost's Satan,

than Van Helsing,

heoric to some

but certainly flawed to all.

 

We are better known for our flaws

than our personalities

and certainly

for our failures over

our success.

Shadow dance

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

Poets are,

photographers,

on partially-built,

grey skyscrapers.

 

We perch on top,

balancing our desire,

with our fear of heights.

 

We can never show you,

the beauty of the city,

we find ourselves on top of,

despite our best efforts.

 

The concrete city,

is not so dull to us,

the pink underbelly,

teases us playfully,

but won't tease you.

 

I would slash my wrists,

to bleed all over this page,

if it meant something to you;

to hell with the consequences.

 

My crimson essence,

dances into your mind,

awakening forgotten life,

pushing a new passion out,

regenerating hope in hopeless,

people, who don't see beauty for,

what it's worth,

i never stopped,

and I couldn't try,

hard enough to ever,

keep you happy or near,

me in the best or worst of,

times when things broke down,

and there was no solace for the,

wicked and the cruel intentions we,

bounced off of one another's innocence,

on our way to a broken dawn with a shattered,

dusk that always served to remind us of how bad,

our failure was with everything we sincerely tried for.

 

Some things that are broken,

aren't looking for anyone to fix them,

and some shadows dance a lot more,

beautifully than some of the brightest flames.

the lonely prize

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

A shadow is spreading in my heart,

viral by nature,

an infection feeding off my memories,

swelling my chest.

 

Blood leaks out with love,

while hope struggles to hold on,

a seemingly endless battle

 

I no longer own my heart,

and truth be told,

I haven't owned it in years.

 

It's been sold to the highest bidder,

time and time again;

the person too intoxicated to understand,

and willing to show me the most affection,

a double entendre of failure. 

 

The auction's up,

and the bets are being placed;

an over-anxious auctioneer,

a lonely prize.

 

The neon life;

tweets, posts, blogs, status updates,

friends, music, movies and video games,

sports, jogging, working out, dancing,

poetry,

nothing works for long,

and it shouldn't.

 

Life is meant to be tackled had on,

hit your bruised forehead again,

on the same dull, white brick wall,

from school of old and the office of new,

until you need a release.

 

What release?

none.

 

Create as you will,

nothing will avoid the end,

not even your art can buy time.

the lonely prize

/ andyveilleux / 4 Comments

A shadow is spreading in my heart,

viral by nature,

an infection feeding off my memories,

swelling my chest.

 

Blood leaks out with love,

while hope struggles to hold on,

a seemingly endless battle

 

I no longer own my heart,

and truth be told,

I haven't owned it in years.

 

It's been sold to the highest bidder,

time and time again;

the person too intoxicated to understand,

and willing to show me the most affection,

a double entendre of failure. 

 

The auction's up,

and the bets are being placed;

an over-anxious auctioneer,

a lonely prize.

 

The neon life;

tweets, posts, blogs, status updates,

friends, music, movies and video games,

sports, jogging, working out, dancing,

poetry,

nothing works for long,

and it shouldn't.

 

Life is meant to be tackled had on,

hit your bruised forehead again,

on the same dull, white brick wall,

from school of old and the office of new,

until you need a release.

 

What release?

none.

 

Create as you will,

nothing will avoid the end,

not even your art can buy time.

the smiling reaper has won

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

 

 
I stayed afloat, treading in a dream moat,
felt the Sandman's grains stuck in my throat,
and the sickle of death scrape against,
the back of my neck, cold metal,
take the burning hot kettle,
pour the water in,
and warm me up,
I'm freezing to death,
my hair stood on the back of my neck,
I prayed for my end,
he laughed,
he whispered,
he grinned.
 
"Not today, or tomorrow,
but my shadow walks with you,
I step where you step,
I do what you do,
and one day I'll come,
swinging my scythe,
and in the blink of an eye,
I'll steal your life."
 
The alarm clock went,
I rolled out of bed,
at first giddy, excited,
it was all in my head,
then I thought of work,
and what he had said,
he can't steal my life,
my soul is already dead.