Current Residence: New York
Favourite genre of music: Indie/Emocore
Operating System: XP
MP3 player of choice: Ipod- U2 Edition of course
Wallpaper of choice: Depends on the
Favourite cartoon character: Spike Spiegel, Brian Griffin
Moonlight Ride of the HorsemanDarkness hovers as a thick mist around,Moonlight Ride of the Horseman by MobileCatharsis
Seeping into soft skin, penetrating light of Diana.
Upon the great mount, the White Horseman,
Mystic of ages, consul of secrets.
Ride upon the whispers of Silent Night,
In thy hand the grasp of souls.
And flowing mane of thy servant
Playing in tiptoe games with Wind.
Drink only of the raw dew does oneself,
Graceful droplets of the clean tree
In action of purity and sanctity.
To be clean of the ground thy tread,
Noiseless banter upon soft mud.
The ride is smooth as quicksilver,
Unattached to Their lonesome world
And yet still free from natures refuge.
Light prevails, upon darkness
That suffocates the wandering tract.
And fleeting glimpse of the ride,
Of one such as thee, blinds sight
A feeling of euphoric disillusion.
A pained uncertainty of sanity,
As illusion is the isle of Circe.
And still nameless stranger creeps.
Great black slender crept,
In silence upon splash of blood red.
Slowly to sink the
RustThe progression of the ambience upon the shadowy silhouettes,Rust by MobileCatharsis
A deep cut in natures grimace, no longer the melancholic silence.
Fresh dew, a varnish on the hovel, the foundry of man's emptiness,
His footprints bare and old, and knife is carcass to the rust.
But the noise is still existent, the ringing and chimes of
The scratch of the axe upon the flesh.
No longer screams, a melody of chimes and bells.
So sweet the music.
FleshThough flesh has left the earth,Flesh by MobileCatharsis
Opiate, so sweet has not.
But stays rather,
An open wound.
Frequent guest of ours,
So close to thy heart.
Phthisis should be leaving,
Soon, upon my own departure.
Blinding to the senses of me,
Taste only knows sawdust,
Vision knows no colour,
Touch is an illusion.
And I, left ravage for the wolves.
Upon this empty bed,
Struggling to raise my hand,
Trying to grab your ghost.
Ghost there is not,
A picture frame instead.
Your timeless face,
To beautiful to be fully captured.
Forever expression you hold,
Always that weak smile,
Anticipation- lonesome sign,
The coming of the Reaper.
The Simplicity in DesireMy delirious lust hangs moist,The Simplicity in Desire by MobileCatharsis
Once more for the sweet taste of your smile.
But what is gone forever, is forever lost,
And within your tabernacle lie only bones and echoes.
Like a dusty coffin, built to last only the showroom,
You are already beginning to fade.
And still your voice echoes throughout
Silent hallways upon the dry cracked covering.
Persistent as ever,
Never ceasing to shatter the heart.
The war was lost and the soldiers fell like toys
No matter the cries for an end, they all fell.
One by one their spirits risen,
As the Grandfather of the Stream
Will ride once more to lock them into eternity.
My doubts however resurface,
Eternity has never been what it seems.
What was dubbed eternal has always become mortal.
Even in the life of yourself,
You lied with every word from
Your soft lulling voice.
Your lullaby shambled,
Your foundation cracked,
Your picture ignited.
Forever lost, you yourself have ignited,
It was only the picture that kept you bound.