The stars that once graced the nights,
Now seemed lifeless and forgotten;
For my hands stained with crimson,
Dripped with the imperceptible reverie
Of long gone, triumphant feelings.

cerul wasnt an average child.
they were smart
kind
charming
elegant
sweet

at least thats what adults told them.
cerul didnt lack much
save for... inspiration. cerul wasnt one to be inspired easily.
cerul looked at all the other colorful children and then looked down upon their dark grey hands.
they felt ugly.
one fateful day, crimson happened to walk up to cerul and they sat together. crimsor took down her flowing, bright red hair and put her tie into ceruls hair. a flow of red went through their pale hair.
crimson smiled and left.

cerul was jealous.
to them it came easy.
they never lost color.
or inspiration.
they didnt lack talent.
colorful children were always favoured.
they would never have a home.

cerul talked to all kinds of people.
sage
aqua
prussian
even prune and azure.

none of them had advice.

cerul sat against the floor one day and cried. for many hours they cried.
they cried until the grey smudged into black.
until the red rushed from their hair.
until they were numb again.

cerul waited for something; anything to happen.
and nothing ever did.

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.