Pierces of blue
slice through the empty.
Filling them up
with the pain that I truly yearn for.

For now;
plant the seeds
in my pierced wounds.

"I wish"
the rose beds would grow against my pale-tanned flesh.

A soft voice
with a beautiful and willing heart.
A heart
convinced wrong.

Someday I would like to wipe the yellow sky from your outer realm.
And be brave for the solar system.

A product of the false factory.

Factory of norm illuminated by lies.

But all I want is your recognition,
and for you to hold my soft-crystalline-rose-sighs...