Her love is her punk guilt — his dishonesty is his perverse pride.

Pretty pink lady

You rescue him like an angel above

But you know deep down you can’t save him

From the dark side of his love.

Punk guilt and sexy shame

For the dirty little things you do

Won’t stop his mind from wandering

Was his loyalty ever true?

So you find yourself in heart’s heaven

Or hellish purgatory of the mind

Within you lies a longing

Your punk heart may never find.




Can you see her in red? She sees red in your dark light. Evil prevails, but adds fuel to Good’s fire.

What is this feverish pitch?

A high-power flute in the ear

Come near me and we will weep together

But don’t come back —

My heart can’t squeeze any tighter

My gut pain hasn’t subsided

You are not my dark light

You are figments of bright evil

You are darkness at best and charlatan fallen-angel at worst

Curse you —

You’ve too vile a smile

A smirk

Work to keep your lady in red

Or rot in nothingness —

Don’t taint my mind with poison

Dark light was the mental illness, not the cure to lonesomeness.




Her love, her faith; she gives herself the gift.

Christmas holds the gift

For years before she could not feel it

Lost in the snowy haze

Of her mind, she could not see it.

Selfish and contrived

Never by choice, but by sculpted faith

Or lack thereof, she wandered

Distracted from her place.

Here she has a home

With or without her knight

It’s more than she could bear

Her tears of joy followed by the sight —

Of a wish to have her heart

All to herself again

It may be in his hands —

Though, with love of self, she wins.