The darkness shimmers upon the glass window panes,
Soaked covered in snow,
Cracks slithering
 up to the seams of the damp rotten wood,
Though it was once beautiful manner,
The wood was darkened and looked mystical in the sunlight,
No broken windows,
It was this fateful day, however,
A red and orange criminal broke through the walls of wood,
It hissed and created shadows upon them,
Like cats of fire,
They danced up the wall,
Scratching the ruins of this once successful manor,
Hearing these death threats created by the fires blazes,
A beautiful spirit entered,
Almost staring them down as if they were specks of dust,
With an almighty powerful howl,
The fire cats whimpered as they felt the pain she had once felt,
Ivy Sorrow, mother nature as most know her.

You’ve grown on me
like moss and ivy,
slowly at first but
before you know it, I’m
covered in you, and I
choose not to remember
what it was like to be naked.

The dead tree never stands lonely.
At the top the silhouettes
of birds come and go,
nesting in the nooks.

Branches sticking out like
Indecisive fingers, pointing enigmatic directions.
It’s trunk is covered with thick, green ivy
asserting a kind of dignity, uniform.

Keeping it warm in the harsh winters
and concealing the weathered, bare bark in the summer
while everything else expands outwards;
in colour, full bloom.

The dead tree stands in the middle of it all.
For the moment, standing steady,
I would never describe this dead tree as lifeless.

Ivy has style
Ivy puts on dresses and heels
Ivy reads books
Ivy talks about books
Ivy lies to her father
Ivy eats at expensive restaurants and pays with her mother’s card
Ivy is beautiful and wild
Ivy is strange and vicious
Ivy drinks more than she should
Ivy eats less than necessary
Ivy has a bottle of ***** and a coke in her car
Ivy has a parking ticket on the windshield
Ivy busily rolls a joint and goes outside
Ivy sits on a cold curb and smokes elegantly
What else can I say about Ivy?
Ivy has a beautiful, slim handwriting
Once Ivy kissed as if she was eating soup
Ivy is poisonous or so she thinks
Ivy is impressed by "stupid" crazy stories, such as "Naked Lunch"
Sometimes Ivy dances to Britney Spears
Ivy likes "Love" by Gaspar Noé
Ivy likes to re-enact classical paintings: Venus, Ophelia,…
Ivy buys matching underwear from Agent Provocateur
Kisses make Ivy’s back, neck, and face blush
Not a solid fill-in red, but marble blotches
Ivy has piercings on her ******* and down there
Ivy has scars from a razor blade: a triangle on her chest and "Anathema" on her hip
Ivy has a streak of tragedy in her
I like Ivy

they force me to come
where the ivy once grew
flourished between the noise
and the ocean’s dance
loved agaisnt the sun
kissed between the sand

and i arrive
to that forgotten place
where the only life left
is of that of the sea
and the stars
where once the crowds gathered
and i was happy
but those people were gone now
dead
just like the magic
and the ivy
that once grew around the white house
and flourished against the sun
filled with life

Ivy.
It grows everywhere.
It can be poisonous,
or harmless.
Either way,
it's ivy.

I want to be like ivy.
A part of nature,
never to die.
But what use is nature,
when it sits and lies?
When it has no purpose,
other than to survive.
Isn't that the same as humanity?

Ivy is like humanity.
It grows around whatever it latches onto.
It adapts to it's environment.
It can be used,
and even admired.
It can also be hated,
and even decimated.