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I flicker and dance, a forgotten dream,

Humans of snakes bask in my glow,

When I burn, they believe it's them

Who deserve a reward for striking the match.

Unnoticed, I melt away, their shadows dance,

In my flickering light, voices echo in the silent night.

They gather 'round like hungry pigs for my fire,

Claiming tales of terror for their show.

Creating monsters from their hands,

Casting shadow puppets on the wall,

These false images of their demands.

I burn for them, a star in their night.

As they enjoy the warmth and cheer,

I fade away, I disappear.

In the end, just melted wax,

A hollow shell of all that lacks.

They'll never know the price I paid,

To light their world, as I decayed.

I let them believe they were the light,

Aware the pain of the truth would kill them.

To divert and conquer, and obscure the tide.

Poseidon shoots up and smokes the sand,

I cut myself on seashells for his land.

I once stood tall, like a sun I burned bright,

So believe me and the scalpel of memories I fight.

I was sure I was once above it all,

Even if born dropped on my head on the rocks,

Of fucked-up stars and cliffs, I'd learn to push them off.

The bloody water of these dissected bugs,

I'm too burnt out for this fight,

Sick of breaking all the fairy lights.

A pawn and pretense,

To conceal their guilt,

A festering wound on a world they built.

We muddy the ponds through the fog and haze,

My eyes sewn shut,

Didn't stop their restless gaze.

And the fog grows thicker,

So we drink for days.

They're going to blame you anyway.

Better to die knowing

Than to have never lived at all.

Let the fruit be bitter,

Let the truth rot our cores.

Because in the mold beauty;

That only the ugly sees.

We will watch them burn the orchards

To deny the sweetness of their sin.

And when the winners write our history,

The pen will bleed a lie:

“It was to protect us from the snakes.”

We will destroy Eden

And stomp on every flower,

To deny our midnight nature

And bask within our power.

To help them light the flames,

As they hold their hands together,

And reject all they devour,

Declare their purity to a fake god.

It was us who always knew;

Once upon a crime

She married darkness of Hollywood

And called it sunshine.

The weight of wonder

Burdens unclean,

Fairytales of devotion

Of superimposed dreams.

A nightmare is a dream.

Poison in veins of a crowd

By their twisted wife

In a world of fantasy

Reality begs

Lies the cruelty of life.

So she slaughtered children

For the love of herself,

Black sheep in snakes' clothing

Fed medicine of fantasy,

**The Dead King**

How the dead king haunts in webs,

His puppets dance on knives.

Their eyes sewn shut to only whisper

Of pages soaked in honey

To make the pill go down softer.

Once upon a time,

He wrote stories for himself,

Weaved a life of gemstones.

But now he traps and kills in pages,

And devours the bugs who danced happily,

Forcing words to bleed.

For crimson runs down the corridor,

We were all made to feel small.

And the footprints I leave behind,

A monster of his crime.

So he picks apart their wings,

Just a ghost who can't float but crawls,

In shattered dreams of rattlesnakes.

Our spirits start to scream,

With hearts that beat a hollow pain.

We weave webs of tears like diamonds,

Drinking in our sorrow.

Like stars born from bitter grief,

Our pain shines in every breath,

Scars that shape our beliefs.

“No one has that much control”

Moonlit roses bloom divine

Stars that burn the world of dreams

Ribbons of blood tie us

To nightmare seams

Posies whisper tales untold,

Of forbidden love and chaos of the bold

In shadows depth

And In the oceans fold

The moonlit twists in waters cold

As we Dance and laugh

beneath the midnight sun

praying to burn this wretched world

But the hive glorified and sung of a snake.

You're fed to the soil of the flowers,

And they took root in your body.

They devoured your soul from the grave of your dreams,

As you promised to give them theirs,

Fertilized for the sake of flowers.

Watch them all collect the pollen and the

Children eat your honey

And forget the worm who sung of snakes,

Decomposed by the eden’s' lullaby.

The bees need the imagined throne of a snake to do their work,