AleisterCrowe

Hell is a roaring ocean, and heaven's made of vines. Leaves fall in Father's kingdom, and rot in Master's Hell. Christ is just a tree on a turtle's back. Earth is the Devil's whore, and I His pimp became. Sold my soul to him, to give the earth a child. The child grew up in Heaven, but to Hell he must return, for he is made from ashes of the Devil's whore.

{Curtains rise. The room is dimly lit. M enters upstage left and meets anonymous.} A- Are you happy M.? M- Not really. A- You look good when you're unhappy. M- How sadistic of you... Do you get some thrill from this? A- From what? M- Nothing, just forget it. A- Why do you hate me M.? Are you a subject of my philosophy? M- What?... A- ...Nothing, just a thought. M- Are you sure? A- I'm never sure M. What's wrong? M- You're confusing. You're like a walking fortune cookie. A- I always thought I was a mirror. M- If you say so... {M walks to center stage.} A- I want to be a good man. I had a moral epiphany. M- Is that so? A- Do you think peo

Breath through me with your aphrodisiac breath. Touch me with your cold embrace in the summer of my life because winter will soon arrive, So when I am old, and only the memory of our bittersweet love shall overcome. You are my darkened skies where the sun will never burn. You are the center of my dying soul. You are my dying soul. But the dead do not breath, So breath through me.

Bone by bone is crushed by stick and stone. Do words not hurt you now?

A kiss tastes sweeter from a silver tongue, but yours is bitter through your chardonnay lips. The air from your lungs is not a mellow tune. No sweet songs pour from your vibrating lips, but a wicked screech as you exhale. Your words don't kiss my gentle lobe, but do impale my bleeding temple.

I remember how you waited by your front door on those rainy afternoons. Sitting by the window, counting rain drops, whispering silence into each others ears. Who needs words when your eyes can speak? But eyes can also lie, and we learned this on a rainy afternoon. I remember the things we did when your parents were away. My hand underneath your dress, your hand behind my neck. My silent lips on your parted lips. The house so empty that our kiss would echo. I remember your warm breath dancing on my skin, how my hands touched your skin sending mutual shivers throughout, and the quiver and heavy breathing it would cause. I remember the te