RED RAIN
By Eric Mars     


There are no angels     
     watching me,
No devil lurks      
     tormentingly.
A twin-torn soul, 
     a brain-washed mind,
Oblivion seems      
     more than kind.     

Alone within a      
     crowded space,
Afraid to see      
     its second face.
A loss of faith,
     the tears of dust,
Passions whithered,      
     slave to lust.      

A drug to stem 
     the tidal force,
No wheel to steer      
     a lucid course.
Rising damp and
     sinking feeling,
Darkness looming,      
     more appealing.     

Waiting for 
     the shoe to drop,
The sun to pale,      
     the world to stop.
Just standing on
     my own damn fault;
A crack too      
     terrified to halt.     

Crouching on 
      its closet shelf,
A pain that feeds      
      upon itself.
Nothing ventured:
      lost or gained.
Ouroborros,      
      The god of pain.     

Weapon poised, 
     a final sin,
The shallow grave      
     of porcelain,
A cloud of blood,
     a seed of pain.
Fears washed away      
     in deep red rain.