Vermillion leaves,Fall from pale limbs aloft,In death, true beauty. Gently falling snow,Turn harsh corners to soft mounds,All life to a dream. Smells of blossom-rains,And the playful wind-whispers.Let me go, lost days. Man-made fields gleam green,Baked into false-permanence,'neath Her mournful gaze.
You have been ruined,Uncaring hands sullied you,Left you torn and limp,So I'll finish the damned job,With a careful blade,Tearing through broken armor,So, Neglected Soul,I can build you up stronger,And you can be loved again.
Her pale hand is small,grasping at the standard of our fathers,tattered rags of vainglorious violence,milky sheets hide crimson courses,slender muscles locked in battle withdeath.
Dream a little please,Fantasies attuned,Thoughtless gray fancies,While the world passes you,By the Lethe we left behind.
How many summers,Drinking deep of sun and tea,Will I pass idly? The sweat on my brow,And beading on my cool glass,Call to mind - Summer! Children out at play,Their games, so loud, annoying,Maybe I'm jealous. Summer brings to mind,Nostalgia, heat, and softness,Like clever lovers. The futon is cool,The air is hot and sticky,When does Autumn … Continue reading midland’s idle summer
I wish wings anew,To fly once more in the sky,In glory again,Forgiven for my trespass,and the sin of a free will.
I regret running,Trying to catch up to you,The me of the past.
I cling to a yesterday,So far in the past,That it makes me wonder,If it ever saw the light of day.
Softly she sharpensSilver spears, shimmering suns,Stab slowly, sweetly,Selecting sworn suitor-slaves.Soon: selfless suicides.