You do not know, so I suppose
In some aspect every flock of terns that fly
South when my mouth opens to speak
Is a lie;

A murder of crows crowding
Serene ocean skies with cimmerian concrete impressions,
I am buried in what I know

In what you believe to be honesty
Is absolutely otherwise and I am unsure
If an apology is needed or if a confession is necessary
Because  you’ve always recognized pink
As being my favorite colour

Engulf me with melody only for a moment and I'll walk the forest of hunted wolves and despondent lions.

The once ambrosial aroma of frail lilies, a smothering hebenon hand. The rays shy away from the polygamy of reapers and senectitude relishing valiant men.

Immerse me in harmonious symphonies only for a moment and I'll tread the trench terrane with jubilent feet, blind to the alluring viper's habanera under lacerated hearsecloth worn by the forest.

The colour of your lips
When they kiss me in the dark,

And the colour of the blood
When you stab me in the back

Both are the same.

I believe beauty
resides in thought,
for the world

is only as beautiful
as you see it

^^^

Wander worried rambler roam.
Wander down the path of a riverside wood.
Step by step,
Shuffle to and fro.
A Forgotten industry remains.
Man made mines,
Dug out quarries,
Fencing, barbed wire, power lines, and pressure treated wooden poles.
Littering the landscape.
A blood letting favor, favored low.

A hydroelectric dam.

Murky and historical waters enter its mouth,
and then,
exit from its other side.
Constantly sucking, and spitting, and churning turbine whine,
Spinning gear stuck,
clamped to the spine.
Luck may have it that these waters may never go dry.
Luck may have it that these currents stay 'live.
Merrily manic, it flows.
Strong and bold,
sparkle, sprung, sold!
Pushes and rolls,
gives and goes.
Cold.
Electric mother glow.

Neon, argon, blazing blast,
to give city speckled lights a mast.
A grip to grasp, to squeeze, to cast,
shadows in the night.
Yellow, orange, red, and blue,
the shades of dreamers,
with their sorrows leaded, heavy,
holy truths.
Unspoken tomorrows, last goodbyes,
mouthed silently at last
in their heads a film score out of time.

The air is baked, the land is spry.
The sun is shattered through prism pines.
I carry myself upon the leaves, of dead footsteps, make believe.
Native footpaths of long ago
and red sandstone trail of men to behold.
Come to this place and let sights be known,
Come to this place and let sights be known,
histories of ours, histories bygone.

I drained my heart of blood
To paint you a picture
And pulled myself
To show it to you
And once I finally did,
You gave it a glance and said
"uh..." (scratching your head lightly)
"It's cute...but I'm just not a fan of red"

You're a red apple
Fallen to the ground
Dear you're turning brown
And I wept, for I thought
You were sweet in your core
But you are oh so rotten.

Red.
He looked up
and red lights flashed before his eyes.
Red.
Like the signs he saw,
warning him that his end was near.
Red.
Like the girl he once loved,
who now towered above him
with no heart
and in place of a heart,
a hole that was
Black.
Like the dress she wore,
that flowed with malice
and the selfish lies that rolled off his tongue.
Pink,
Like the passion they once felt
that soon faded when he stole her heart.
Red.
All she could see was red
as she walked towards him.
She was hungry,
Hungry for revenge.
Her eyes dark red, filled with anger
like her dark red lips that dripped with lust,
for blood.
She ripped out his heart
"You stole my heart,
took away my love,
left me to suffer"
She licked her hand
And her blood stained red lips.
Red.

storm of red
rages on
battering
scouring
terraforming my soul

@journeyofdays