the larger version of my icon picture. say cheese?
yes, i keep changing my image, but i am a roving bastard at times.

death becomes me, the assassin,
yet love infects the poet's being.
passion stains the blade;
it inspires the immortal soul.
it lights the fires of sentiment
and causes this heart of stone
to bleed with adoration.

just for one touch
of my beloved goddess.
i would barter my existence.

risen into new found life
driven into unknown pleasures,
inside the bonds of emotion, i cry out.
i wash the blood from my hands
and find redemption lost in the
gentle wind; the summer rain
that is the one i cherish.

lest the world be fooled, though,
i do not walk with the footsteps
of the righteous or the blameless.
i come not as a saint, but as a sinner.
i offer pearls of poetry
but still the invitation remains
just as sinister as it was before.

i sense your pulse and, drawn to it,
i whisper in your ear.
tell me all your deepest secrets,
let me weigh them in the balance.
let me see the confines of your spirit
and gauge the merit of your soul.
lest you think your sins can be hidden,
i can taste them all.

reveal your thoughts to me, dear friend.

show me your darkness,
and i will show you mine.