Almost a real person

[markoschuker]

The Cold Indifference

You are but mud, a fracture in the grass, A quiet horror where the weeds will grow, The world won't pause to watch your shadow pass, Nor care about the grief you used to know.

The reakness will choke your final cry, And fill your mouth with dirt and rotten stone, A nameless thing beneath a faceless sky, Forgotten, dead, and utterly alone.

[markoschuker]

The Safe Abyss

The heavy velvet curtains close at last,To block the cruel and blinding light of day,The shadows swallow up the bitter past,And wash the noise of breathing souls away.In this dark room, no demands are made,The cold embrace of night is all I need,A quiet sanctuary in the shade,Where tired hearts can rest and cease to bleed.

[markoschuker]

The Weight of Your Void

I wrap my sky around your frozen stone, And press my clouds against your obsidian coat, But through your back, I touch the naked bone, And feel the heavy silence in your throat.

I bring you light, a blue and endless day, To cure the hollow dark that you became, Yet rib by rib, you steal my life away, And drown my heavens in your quiet shame.

[markoschuker]

Bound Beyond the Flesh

The flesh is gone, the world has turned to dust,But static arms still hold what they adore,Through centuries of rot and silent rust,We sit in bone, together evermore.No heartbeat rings inside this hollow chest,Yet empty ribs still shield your faithful head,A final cage where loyalty can rest,The only love that never started dead.

[markoschuker]

The Well of Forgotten Tears

The quiet moss now claims the hollow bone, A crown of green upon a silent face, From empty jaws where bitter words were known, A crystal stream now flows in gentle grace.

The dark pond drinks the memories of the dead, As weeping water falls without a sound, A secret shrine where mortal fears are shed, And ancient grief turns fertile in the ground.

[markoschuker]

The Witch’s Crucible

I spark the ancient fire inside my palm, A blinding glare where shadows used to hide, It shatters every mask and fake alarm, And burns away the tongue that ever lied.

No shield of gold can save them from the heat, The ash of their deceit falls to the floor, For in my flame, the false face meets defeat, And only naked souls can walk my door.

[markoschuker]

The Ghost I Feed

My tortured soul still guards the broken gate, A starving wolf that begs the empty air, I pray to gods of dust, and watch, and wait, For one whose shadow is no longer there.

A miracle of flesh is all I crave, To feel the warmth that vanished into stone, But night returns to scrape against my grave, And leaves me with the ghost I feed alone.

[markoschuker]

The Autumn Crypt

In fields of rot, our bodies intertwine,Two hollow crowns of orange and of bone,We drink the poison of this twisted vine,And kiss where light and life have never known.Our wooden lips press cold against the dark,No breath inside, just ash and burning coal,We share a love that leaves a blackened mark,Two rotting gods who traded skin for soul.

[markoschuker]

In the shadow where the silence bleeds,Cold talons wake from deep beneath,They sink into the breathless deep,And tear the bloom of what was me.No gentle end, just endless night,As greedy claws crush bone and vein,They feast upon my final fright,And leave a heart of ash and pain.

[markoschuker]

[markoschuker]

The Rhythm of the Abyss

We are but hollow shrines of dust and lime, Stripped of the skin that once knew soft embrace. Yet in this marrow-thirst, defying time, Our heartbeats echo in this cold, dark place.

Do not mistake this thrum for life’s return, It is a curse, a furnace in the chest. Two skeletal remains that refuse to burn, Bound by a pulse that will not let us rest.

[markoschuker]

Neither bird nor human, but a vessel for the songs that refuse to die. The sky is wide, and my cage is finally open.

I am the choir of the earth, singing a song of feathers and grief. Between the beast I have become and the human I can no longer hold, I finally find my voice.

[markoschuker]

The Stain of the Sun

Darkness is not the absence of the light, Nor just the void where solar fires expire. It thrives beneath the sun in cold decay, A hidden frost beneath the noon-time pyre.

For when the whip of life begins to flay, And cruel fates carve deep into the breast, Our souls turn black amidst the brightest ray, A stain that leaves the weary heart unblest.

[markoschuker]

For years I wandered through the sightless haze, A broken vessel drowning in the dark. I lost my soul within the tangled maze, Where shadows fed upon the dying spark.

Then sudden gold—two lanterns in the gloom, A feline gaze that pierced the velvet night. The path emerged to banish all my doom, My spirit found its purpose in his light.

[markoschuker]

The raven cat stalks over cooling stone, He waits for fingers white as winter bone. A scratch against the earth, a brittle sound, The master stirs beneath the hallowed ground.

A withered hand erupts to stroke his fur, A static touch that makes the shadows stir. "Do not despair," the silent specter sighs, "We share this bond beneath the weeping skies."

[markoschuker]

She sits upon the jagged cliff of night, Where stars expire like candles in the deep. The void reflects a hollow, fading light, A lonely vigil only shadows keep.

She whispers names to echoes in the gale, The restless ghosts drift cold against her skin. Their voices weep a long-forgotten tale, And pull her closer to the dark within.

[markoschuker]

The Lunar Vigil

The bleached white ribs beneath a frozen sky, He tracks the silver orb with hollow eyes. No pulse remains to bid the world goodbye, Under the watch of ancient lunar sighs.

Beside him curls a godlike beast of velvet fur, A feline majesty draped in midnight dust. They share the silence, motionless, demure, Two relics bound by solitude and rust.