hello and goodbye, little flower
the wallops of the sun and moon
the taste of sweet and sour,
why are you fading so soon?

energy never lies
each day, each petal dies
roots that are used to be cherished
zest is slowly beginning to perish

disappearing charisma burst
embosomed by a gloomier thirst
spirals of flourishing passion
stem's propped to percussion

restoring the seeds of fertility
is the perfect tone of sanity
but the sudden gush of calamities
hindered the ray of prosperity

tailored lullabies,
hoping for rain or a battle cry
here's the dream's doom,
for a flower that no longer blooms

the feeling becomes seasonal
a little bit under the weather,
remember the plant that used to grow?
now's colorless and withered

the world is full of missing parts,
then so am i
the malfunction of my image can bloom
the good deeds may glitch and die

no broken hearts could open gates for others
only throbbing fissures are to be seen
secret doors and damaged keys
rotten sadistic teen

yet you came
and i've never seen a demon so sweet to me, how?
smooth puffs ****** into my head
making me crazy and sane,
trust ain't easy to gain,
but i'm coaxed by your vows

i liked myself before
then i like my halo better now
the idea of angel wings and a fiend's ***** is not a good blend
but a compatible path was created
with an adequate commitment to try
he said he wants to love the opposite
if that's the deal,
then so am i

sounds can testify the details of a picture
whilst unholy orbs can earwitness the vowels and consonants
beneath the smoke is an ibidem treasure
nothing but the end of the line of the coincidence

there's something about the heat,
the taste,
the texture,
and the rhythm,
that puts each creature in a strange addiction
it draws me in a helix composition
or a different compensation
and most of all,
i'm bottled up in a wild satisfaction

my mundane hours would feel extra deserted
just like my camel stick when it's unkindled
i might hate seeing―experiencing typical things
but never tired of this kind of habit that seems brittle
or a sense of rage, not even a little
because of every sip,
my piercing thoughts became a whistle

as soon as i light up a coffin nail
my veins will finally ignite, once again
the dark shack i'm in will be darker
but brighter in my eyes
then my lonely spirit will be lonelier
but i'd have unseen friends in disguise

the subdued toxins will shatter in ashes
but it won't break like my positive qualities mixing in the air
turns out i'm not sniffing the exasperating scent
merely engulfing the ache and the rasp regrets

my peeves shall drown in my foggy statements
letting my weight float through the clouds
mind's hazy,
vision's blurry,
tears shiny,
and heart's happy,
yet the sadness would still creep when the last breath's out

the aftertaste should be really more ravishing
similar to the catchy tunes of 'offonoff'
feverless, manipulating, non-colorless
and especially, not quiddity-vanishing

the nicotine never fails to send me over in a mnemonic mess
directing me in a festinate loop in so many ways
the menthol touch wouldn't be as cold as the other people nowadays,
but when they ask, they'd question;
"what was the song, by the way?",
i'd stumble and fall with my laconic disorder
inside my head like a wounded cassette
then i'll answer,
it's cigarette