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" Perhaps, life is just a disaster
wrapped in fairy-glow fragments ~
shimmering with stars of death... "

O' beloved moment of time,
take me where I belong,
in the henna haze of scentless leaves
draped in doves of lotus,
I'll whimsically walk in your vivacious veins...
I am  d r o w n i n g

O' dear foe of faith,
let me float beneath the shadow ~
where phoenix meadows
don't yet reap of poisonous pixies...
I am  d i v i n g

O' my ivy moonrise,
perhaps, I'm a torn feather
oscillating in the notes of sirens and sealust ~
aching to be an archangelic snare
and dying to blossom in the devil's care...

O' champagne tendrils of vineyard,
I'll be the ruffle of a rippling rose
wrinkled by winter,
cradled in a roulette of remorse ~
I am  f a d i n g...

   When the mist of tears
          waltzes in the eyes
  and there's nothing more
for the muted thunders to conceal,
I hope to swathe myself
     in the charcoal lake of lightening ~
that pierces those midnight moonflowers, 
and their wavering murmurs
           breathe merciless secrets
  across pearl-ivory patterns,
      where the Satan once painted his grief... 
For, I nevermore wished to be 
a scarecrow studded with obsidians, 
  midst treacherous tunes of tulips ~
that feigned to be 
 the most eloquent facade of fuchsia frantics, 
   stung by sly honeybees 
              in the cape of saviours. 

   Maybe, my words have
engraved me as a mythical alphabet,
across the alabaster rain of sunsets ~
   as I no longer feel caressed
by the songs of seashells,
that once scribbled sagas of twinkling trust
          upon marigold sands. 

I ache for the aerial cosmic dust
to soak in my lungs
and filter me with orchid fragrances ~ 
which had abandoned
the aurelian aroma of budding butterflies
from flying to the sun in my heart...

   Seasoned by haunted honeysuckles, 
     I try to fathom, 
  if everything is separated from the end
         by a fickle yarn of golden eclipse ~
     that yearns to tangle 
  in heather hallucinations of happiness. 

In the realm of silver linings, 
can I be a long lost labyrinth 
forsaken by Eurydice, 
where sorcery shapes me 
as the bloodthirst of Orpheus' stars... ? 
Clenching on the clandestine heatwaves 
of yesteryear longings, 
I am swelled up 
with a million unseen moons ~ 
swirling within the periwinkle fog of fireflies. 
Nevertheless, 
there I surf...
as the last sailor of memories,
b r e a t h i n g  in
that forlorn ode of sapphires,
which got lost in the salts of time...
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