Rose haze fractures,
a world refracted,
devils' spawn pacing the void—
no sleep, no dreams, just static.

Confessions carved on smoke trails,
the crackle-pop rhythm of lies,
a wasp nest humming
its venom song in the night.

Cigarette burns like stigmata,
photographs of shattered veins,
hearts breaking with the soft cadence
of storms past—
gentle, relentless violence.

Vultures spiral in a cruel ballet,
tension stretching taut
until the mind snaps,
a razor's edge
dancing with psychosis.

She barred the doors,
left the world screaming outside,
while hungover dawns and hollow eyes
etched her truth
on walls no one would ever see.

Samson strength,
cut cords,
no contact—
a prayer for peace,
a fortress against the whispering dark.

Tattooed tears,
a killer in slow motion,
tripping through shadows
that refuse to die.

No trust, no kin,
just the slow exhale of light—
ghosts humming in thunder's arms,
his hand reaching
through the veil of the afterlife
to pull her back from oblivion.

But who saves the savior
when the wasps return?

Red poppies bow low,

heads bending in whispered pact,

soldiers in still ranks,

bleeding upon the soft earth,

awaiting the wind’s command—

battlefields of fleeting bloom.

A day of trembling, fevered dread,
Sweat and shivers, the mind half-dead.
In and out of a fractured stream,
Words like bubbles, a haunted dream.

He said, "Get washed, dressed, let's go to town,"
A voice so light while I wore the frown.
Oh, the chaos of his naive plea,
To step from the shadows that swallowed me.

I tried, I dressed, my hands like ice,
The night a storm of inner fights.
Panic surged, the walls closed tight,
A flightless bird in endless night.

Later, calm, his words rang true,
"You must attack what frightens you.
Face your fears, don't waste away,
Let life unfold; don't drift astray."

Oh, if courage were so easily sown,
A seed to sprout in the unknown.
But I’ll try, though brittle and torn,
To find my strength where fears are born.