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When the sun hangs low
by scarlet-threaded silk, 
you'll find my soul
waltzing in the womb of woodland
like a viking warrior, 
where I'm rooted ~ 
beyond decaying diamonds, 
as life unfolds a watercolor symphony
falling from the canopy of chrysanthemums, 
and I am more than 
those soft-blooded sins, 
surfing across satanic stars,
still aching to be cherished 
by azure-butterfly auroras ~
where the angels shed their skin. 

Hear me in the heathers of a hummingbird, 
 as it tiptoes and leaves lilac footprints 
 upon the origami-thin crescent, 
   unfolding ambrosial sonatas 
            upon honey-kissed keys of paradise...

Feel me floating 
as the last filament of dust, 
consumed by remorseful rust ~ 
  where my wings have been forsaken
 by featherless birds of the peacock moon, 
 and I am torn between, 
   those celestial scents within citrus love, 
   which choreograph a divine lust for peace... 

Sense me in embellished elixirs, 
   where the custard clemency of cessation
     melts every feral twilight ~ 
 and scribbles savannah hues
    of tangerine rhapsody
   throbbing in the hearts of those, 
       misunderstood by time... 

   I refuse to be enslaved
as a liquefied lace
  of lovelorn lavenders, 
within a mannequin, 
whose marble flakes 
  have lost their mirth ~
   for these beasty fragrances, 
trapped in wild roses, 
  will forever shield 
      my cinnamon stardust, 
    from slipping away 
   in a space without sunflowers.

  Search for me midst milky ferns, 
         blossoming in skylines ~
  where astronomy flows in the veins of asters, 
which have always been 
    an armour for my intuitions, 
     a pulse for my psyche, 
      a chariot for my crestfallen conscience
 and a whiskey-gold glare for my grieving faith, 
 
         f l u t t e r i n g
 like wrinkled violets
                     in velvet verses... 
       
So, when the florets of 's'aimer soi-même'
 unleash from sepals of scrutiny
 and sing a forlorn hymn to the reborn trust, 
       twirling in tributaries of tomorrows ~ 
I will engrave my magnolia manifestations 
   and blossom as a four-leaf clover 
 across fairy wisps of tulip-knitted horizons...

" I am free as those sailors, 
spiralling in sunsets ~ 
between riverbanks
  that separate sorrow
  from sparkling cocktails,
 for, I'm nevermore
betrothed to the devil of darkness
  and those murky mosaics of mimosas
don't just remember me,
  as a maleficent mistress of metaphors, 
      breathing in metallic misery..."
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