I'm feeling like a clut,
as you're putting all these colors through my veins,
and I'm ever-so tangled in the faux thought that it could possibly flourish
into something so occult that it would devise a new world of its own, entirely.

But what I didn't examine
was the false hope you stored in my abode of a heart,
by simply being your own and hankering my mind and flesh,
projecting love in an entirety of positive epilogue, sure to soon diminish...