Turn of the 20th century, dark poets.

Tales of mayhem bewitch these creative eccentric beings.
Entwined tales unfold and some unimagined sooth to say of life.
Casting characters out of desolate imagery and solace.
A perilous journey, a destined venture awaits, divinity becomes strife.

The subconscious can say and do many a thing, where upon . . .
Hence forth a waning moon.
What may seem so eventful soon set forth-dangerous liaisons.

Their lives may not seem so inviting in comparison to the masters of the Portal.
The pain simmers, engulfing, digesting the mirrored mental immortal.

A moonlight sonata chimes across the piano keys, of where, oh when.
Why, what more could there be in their somber sensory faculty but the whispers of Zen.

Absinthe relinquishes their spoken word.
Opium and Laudanum seeks the destination of their thoughts.
The tears of the vagrant heart cry out and so wish to be heard.
Truly, it is their darkest unbound fear to be sought.

Doth the way, of this haunting creature, this vivacious poet piety.
Gentlemanly mannered, distinguished and literally accepted by an underground society.

Their refuge lies within the ink drops of a Raven's quill.
And here is where intelligent minds consummate the hinder most creeping chill.
Once the poets heart lies within its chamber, settled silently still;
The beating commences when they embody and embrace, perishing of their own will.

By LadyGray