hide under lampshades

I'm a fragment of myself, frightened and hiding in the furthest corner of your mind. Don't presume I'm something you could repair! I most certainly wouldn't ask you to try! Too many of the pieces are missing and your spare parts won't complete a shattered portrait in bloodstained glass. That blood dripping from my skin is too often the only reminder that I'm still here. Feel free to leave impressions of your teeth in my neck so the other girls know I'm yours! Hurt me or love me... it's only electricity buzzing... but it's enough to wake the dead...

People walk past me like gusts of wind, ignorant of my existence beyond their knowing to step around if I'm in the way. The few who notice, they leave me drained, for I've always had to play pretend. I'm alive when nerves hurt louder than the numbness screams. I'm alive when beautiful eyes dilate and heat radiates, but no one ever wanted to know what I hold inside. The noises in my head repel angels. Their fingers never touch this cold skin. The demons wouldn't allow it, for their plans might be discovered.

You're a lovely mess, my dear! I'd make exceptions to all the rules for you. The wreckage of my heart isn't much to offer, but I'd like you to feel free to place it in your cupboard. I keep it in a jar like strawberry jam. You might enjoy the taste!

We could break free of mental framework and hide under lampshades or behind curtains. They'll never find us haunting their attics, because the Darkness adores our childlike nature! It will protect us so long as you don't turn on the lights.

The Fenris Wolf Shall Devour

Justin Marik is my (Latin/Czech) name given at birth, meaning "Justice within the Warlike"; my (Swedish) middle name as reincarnation of my grandfather is Carl, meaning "Freeman"! Ironically, considering I'm a heathen, it was Saint Justin who declared the gods were Devilish illusions.

I am (known by the Norse mononym) Tyrvald, "powerful by Tyr", for chained up within my mind is a beast like (the wolf destined to kill Odin) Fenrisúlfur, my alter ego, a chaotic traumatized inner-child buried undead within my subconscious. Unlike Tyr, Sky God of justice and war, my sacrifice to bind the wolf within has been my sanity! I have yet to lose an arm protecting my tribe as he did binding Fenrir, but I bear psychic wounds and physical scars from wrestling to maintain my lucidity.

Everyone has demons but these are neither supernatural nor do they possess us. Within our brains lie haunting memories which can flashback like nightmares! Are we not at our own mercy if we choose to destroy ourselves? I've been trying to find peace while myself tries to kill us both. I live life feeling that Justin died long ago, that he is little more than a ghost lost in the past... raging to manifest in the future!

My cruel alcoholic (now dry-drunk) father murdered me over a decade ago, yet I live to speak of it. I am today a young priest of Gullveig, who was thrice burnt (by the Aesir) in the first war, yet she lives transformed into Heidh: the witch goddess! Vanadís (this protective spirit of the Vanir) is the Lady, Freyja of the Brísingamen.

Hail!

MySpace® in the Gutter

Older verse, articles and journal entries are posted at blogs.myspace.com/tyrvald while gothic poetry is and shall continue to be published at blogs.myspace.com/adeathtooslow for your illiterate displeasure.