Embers

Her hair billows out in the wind,

fanned by the breath of the lost

and the hope of the starving.

 

It curls like a kiss,

lavishing light and heat

with each one of their heart

beats.

 

She hums approval quietly

from under the black skies

she fights off with her beauty.

 

Stars twinkle overhead

and she hopes to burn

even a fraction as brightly,

someday.

 

The orange light she casts

is spellbinding,

enchanting men and women alike,

her beauty stuns all.

 

 

She provides comfort and illumination,

only asking for effort and consideration

from those she deems fit to spark

life into.

 

Angered by drops of water,

she crackles and hisses

a warning, loops of fire strands

diminishing, until she only lives

in the embers.

Bundy

Some say my face was carved by god.

“Angelic, cherubic, handsome, captivating”

meant to do wonders of good,

just like his first creations should.

But, I am the morning star

and you are all forsaken.

 

Forsaken to this wretched wasteland

of over abundance and under appreciation.

You should feel your spine tingle

your neck crink, ill

thoughts of death and decay

when you hear my name.

Foolish women want to play MY game?

 

They will never know the numbers

of all the unmarked graves I’ve

desecrated again.

And again.

The angel has seen your hideous

and it is his right to exterminate

this blight of ugliness that diseased the whole world.

 

Humanity should kneel

and suck my greatness.

Choke on it

and the dirt that you belong in.

This isn’t YOUR world now,

its always been mine—

I just let you borrow it.