White babydoll dress with cherry stained lips, sing pretty words, a dying mistress. Carmine moonlight, reptile eyes, whispering your name, the dead come to rise. Vanishing spirits, ribcage to my heart, a dead queen to her throne, stranger than art. Familiar voices, freakish dreams, muttering my prayers, chest rises to breathe. Stranger things have happened, the clock strikes twelve; only in this realm are we victims of hell. The ghost of reason, the ghost of chance, the spirits that torment, with the devil I dance. Stranger than fiction, strangers of past, under the rose moon, isolation at last. Blood seeps through white lace, at the alter we stand, through sickness and health, I give you my hand. Blinded by madness, mesmerized, it’s true; insanity and sadness, tell me “I do”. Mumbling spells to bound our corpses; the veins to my heart have been torn out and scorched. Stockholm syndrome, thievery of heart; a tragic bond, they try and tear us apart. Our cold hands are laced, you have me down on my knees; through chaos and mistakes, my mournful disease.

7 thoughts on “Disease

  1. while the whole piece is touching, it was two words – stockholm syndrome – which gave it the most lasting impact for me. brilliant, though somewhat unfortunate we have to experience certain things in which we then create beauty, however poignant, however impactful.


    1. Thank you so much! Yeah, I was doing research on Stockholm syndrome and I found the psychological phenomenon so fascinating. I felt a personal attraction to it in a strange way. I really feel like it connected to what I was trying to write about as well. I’m glad you noticed 🙂 I feel the same way.


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