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Upon my arm I wear my heart
Its tears run red, my grief runs fast...
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Camping in the wild
I was but a child...
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You came here without a path
your role is to forge one...
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At times I feel you are here, as I write
like you are breathing from the page...
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Water-coloured tears drip-
rolling and weaving through crimson twilled...
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(Beautiful Chaos)
My mind is unspoken whiteness of marked metaphors...
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I felt so excited,
about meeting her that evening...
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Earthy damnation
upon sprinkled fantasy...
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O blooms
my eyes could hardly hold on to you now...
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Nothing’s as bad as it seems
Hearts were meant to heal...
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The sun is slowly sinking into the neighbors...
you never noticed before that but it's in moments...
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If life was a rose garden
Then we would be those flowers...