Sonnet 1

Sonnet 1

I stare deep into my glass of wine

The same distorted haze of red

As the colour that burns inside my head

And tries to convince me that I am fine

And nothing is wrong with this heart of mine,

So putrid and swollen and scarred and

Diseased, mutilated and marred and

All for you, the angel of beauty -

You, the stardust in an eternal night

Who forced me to give up the fight

And choked my soul in pitiless spite…

But pity is not what I desire,

And with every last false kiss

I wallow in Hell’s unyielding bliss.