To tread the depths
of long promised
Death.
I long for those
forsaken ashes
of whom they
promised I would
Be.

To wade the shallows
of promises
and stolen childhoods,
in search of
broken glass
to cut away
the ribbons of blood,
and join in silent song
the ones fogotten.

To sink in frigid waves
of bloodied eyes
and shattered teeth,
in desperate need
of tethering.

To bleed away all warmth.

To let the floods
turn crimson,
and the skies rain rust.

To drown in the emptied
innocence of life.

Promises of respite
from sallowed ashes,

adorned with feathers
from a thousand culled doves.

Haplessly wishing that freedom
comes soon.

A hope ensnared
in the clench
of crimson-stained gloves.

I'm uploading My Dreams for Tonight.
When the Sun sets beyond the Sea.
Come forth, My Pretty Woman.
Wheresoever U may Be.
When I step into Light, next Morning.
I must feel your Warmth, on My Skin.
My Soul must brim with Happiness.
So there's a flutter in My Heart Within.
Life at times, can be a Monstrous Devil.
That may sail U on dying Streams.
Feelings are the Fabric to Our Souls,
I Fashion them out, with My Dreams.
Emotions are just like Wild Fires.
They have mystic powers to Destroy.
Sometimes they have the power to rebuild.
So U sleep, on a bed of Crimson Joy.

It often feels as though I was never meant
To be the man that I have stubbornly become;

It often seems more likely that at one time,
During my checkered past,
I laid in wait in the foliage,
Sprung a makeshift trap,
Subdued one of my pursuers,

And assumed their identity

It would be one of the few logical explanations
For why I consistently sabotage my own path;

Retreating to my sanctuary,
Setting up tripwires around every corner,
Poisoning my sole water source,
Setting up sensors around my heart,
Camouflaging the exposed crimson,

And stalling for time that I no longer own

In the ruins of memories shall I scavenge for relics,
I seek totems of our union and idols of our departure,
For in the battlefield we shared I sit to relish the agony of separation we now bare,
To the crimson kisses staining our surrender,
A salute to fractured promises.

The touch of a hand,
The warmth of another,
That precious tickle,
That burning feeling inside,

Living flame,
Dancing throughout my garden.

The garden I cultivate for you,
A field of crimson, the purest red,
It is your colour, a sanctity, a shrine for you,
This garden, my life’s passion,

A never ending field of Lycoris Radiata,
Growing inside my mind.

Temples and palaces,
Cathedrals and castles,
The works of generations,
They’re all incomparable to the garden I grow for you,

Thousands of year in worth of work, the species’ finest art,
Rivalled by the Eden I cultivate for you, the moments it took for my garden to grow.

Problems are non existent in the garden,
Yours or mine, I can no longer tell,
But I know for a fact that they cannot grow here,
All that grows is the Lycoris Radiata, swallowing all other forms of life or death,

That is, before the deluge,
Before the moment you walked into my garden.

Before the moment you entered the realm I constructed for you,
Before the moment you graced the garden with your presence,
Before the moment you shattered the illusion of grandeur,
Before the moment you trampled the finest of the Lycoris Radiata,

The death of my garden,
The collapse of my life’s work, that somehow lasted mere moments.

But it’s okay,
I didn’t want the field of crimson anyway,
I didn’t want the garden of Eden,
You snake.

I hope you know I hate you,
Because now I’m growing hydrangea,
And it’s going to be the most beautiful garden on earth, lush and green and all for me.

By LLL

There is a woman,
With heaven underneath her feet.
When I take a glimpse of her eyes,
I forget about the stars.
For the twinkle of her eyes is better than that of stars.
When I gaze at her lips,
I forget about the crimson of roses.
For her lips are far rosier.
When I hear her laugh,
I forget about the nightingale.
For her voice is far too merry.
But do you know who this woman is?
She is Mama the Marvellous.