I’ll take you to the gardens in which
I was once taken.
And I will allow you to be mistaken
By the kindness that enriches
My sole being in plenty.

As in this sun that Apollo gave us once,
In a kiss that hollowed our hearts to be tied.
The grass is rich like your reflection in my eyes
And yes, in these vines we are amongst
The lovers of my slight past, yet you are important to me.

And your lips are firm I see,
As you clasp them around
That coffee which came from my grounds
And my grounds call for you
As in this place we are meant to be.

See, I deserve you like Gaia didst life,
And the butterflies that swarm
This garden so warm
Take my queries and my strife.
As do you, within these trees.

The hydrilla that lies beneath your river
Grasps my shins and begs me not to leave
Yet my intentions are not to grieve
The curtains that fall over your eyes at ease.
To you, an emotion to feel, my garden agrees.

I am not afraid of you like others are,

It is not you who takes my daily thoughts,

I keep coating these lungs with tar,

And no day I feel I’ve been taught.



The pain I enquire is not so the same,

That petrifies my nerves,

Reverse me from this game,

The agony of which death serves,



Is one I wish not to endure.

Take one day of my life with hurt,

A life in which I wish was pure,

My heart, my soul, covered in dirt.



Understand that, death, I am not scared,

But with injury and torture my worries shared,

Peace in you i know i’ll find,

And with that you keep peace at mind

Uncertain waves of wanted days no longer able to succeed as I am in bed.

If I am to recover with no help more I’ll raise a glass to the one who lies in my head.

The sensitive worm I have forgotten most of is taking advantage of my need to work.

And this sweltering swell balloons my need for closer analysis of my soon life after.