Left

Left.

I suffer without pain and without sorrow.
For they have come and long gone.
Left my suffering empty and hollow.
Like a wasteland bereft of life.

There is no light that mine eyes can perceive.
Joy has come and gone and left a dreadful bitterness.
The acrid aftertaste of something too sweet savored too long.

Life is short and my suffering endless.
The mind escapes into worlds unbuilt.
Where sorrow is fleeting and joy abounds evermore.
Leaving the body to its bleak existence.

As the suffering abides so do I.
Until I spill brilliant rubies to the floor.
And my suffering abates.
I am eternal.

By: Jeron Barclay.

Copyright Jeron Barclay 2007

Grey

Grey.

My soul is as grey as the sins I inhale everyday.
Trying so hard to dissolve the things that make me hate me.
Trying to burn away my entire life.
To snuff it out as if it shouldn’t have been.
As if I should never have existed.

My heart aches from the blistering cold that I keep it in.
But I’m still afraid to remove it from its prison.
Because before it can get better it’s going to hurt even more.
Before it can feel pleasure it must swell with pain.
The pain has endured for too long.

My mind aches to feel love’s hands gentle caress.
To have love control its raging darkness.
To have light poured into it once more.
But perhaps love no longer counts it a friend.
And in this friendless existence it will remain.

Till time becomes eternity.
And my graying soul slumbers.
I shall ne’er find that which I seek.
And once more I am accursed.

Yet still I wait.

By: Jeron Barclay.

Copyright Jeron Barclay 2007

Alone

Alone.

My whole life is desolate.
From my youth have I been alone.
I grow weary of this lonely existence.
I long to go home.

There is no freedom in my life.
Only these masks keep me sane.
But behind the mask there is nothing.
I do not exist.

My whole life I’ve been alone.
Even when surrounded by people who “care”.
I am alone and tired and afraid.
I don’t want to walk alone anymore.

There is nothing left for me in this world.
Only the cold sting of a heart destroyed by countless hands.
Though it is destroyed my hands work on it.
I still hope, that I will not always be alone.

By: Jeron Barclay.

Copyright Jeron Barclay 2007

Sorrow

Sorrow.

This righteous soul of condescending doom lingers disconsolately among the darkened masses of people.
Prayer moves and shapes the soul to a man of god.
Though I do not serve him always I do love him.

The loss of love causes me to reconcile deeper into god.
Let the end come.
Let us move toward Armageddon.
Let the flesh die and the spirit alone live.
Perhaps there will be joy for me in Valhalla.

I rise upon the silent hurricane winds casting my dark solemn existence deep into the abyss.
There is no love for me in this world.
Love has gone from my life.
Not of death, but of the stark cold refusal to reciprocate my love,

I raise my voice and fill the wasteland about me with my woe.
My sorrow joins the cry of the desolate wolf and the wail of whistling branches, an unholy chorus permeating everything in this place.
Driving me closer to death.

YEA I AM FORTUNEFULL.

By: Jeron Barclay.

copyright Jeron Barclay 2007

Curse's End

Curse’s End.

What manner of sorrow is this that joy should not permit but encourages?
That what defiance love shows is swept by misplaced tears away to places unknown yet foreseen.

That loves ears be love’s guide.
And love’s heart be love’s home
That love’s hand hold love’s mind.
And my love’s memory not fade.

As this love be not lost the mark of the accursed is fled of me.
As the silent storm subsides and the pliable darkness removes.

That love’s eyes behold love’s face.
And love’s remembrance never fail.
That love’s arms stretch beyond love’s divide.
And hold onto love for all time.

Till the curse is no more, and love is no longer divided.
Till the two have become one and even beyond thus.
I shall ever cling to this love.
And I shall love thee with a perfect love.

By: Jeron Barclay.

copyright Jeron Barclay 2007

Crawling

Crawling.

I feel you.
Crawling under my skin.
Soothing my hate like a healing balm.
This potent emotion boils in the cauldron of my soul.
For the first time I feel warmth in the arctic stone of my heart.

Thawing slowly the warmth draws me away from the edge.
Calms my tormented mind.
Makes me feel like a child.
So full of wonder and love.

You crawl into my heart, now a hot, red, pulsating form.
Making me believe I can love.
Making me believe I am worthy of love.
Healing the wounds of the past.

I feel your soul.
Crawling into mine.
Repairing my shattered mind.
Making me whole.

Fulfilling the essence of me.

By: Jeron Barclay.

copyright Jeron Barclay 2007