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Humming in hemlock heartbeats ~
along the shorelines
which once swallowed the sun 
in their searing shadows ~
I see those smoking seawaves
swirling upon my skin, 
as the silhouettes
of damask dahlia damsels
drizzle and dance
in the tornadoes of 
tangerine tulips ~
tiptoeing 
and twirling me
with the tormenting tides
of papercut solstices, 
and plucking the songs 
of those diabolical dusks, 
petal by petal, 
that once mercifully sowed 
seeds of solitude
in my scorching scales
and breathed belief, 
in the aromas of amethyst glares ~
through those songs of surrender, 
vanishing in saffron thunders. 


O' monarch of seething shadows ~
 fostering flakes of fears within sahara salts ~
         unlove me... 
         and I shall vaporize
         in the villanelles of wicked willows... 
break me...
nevertheless, 
you'll forever witness
 these fingers
colliding with faith, 
in the cemetery of cobalt roses. 
For, in this alchemy of turquoise
I'm an underwater rage
an onyx feathered,
 gold-guilded dove ~ 
tangled in the tentacles
of singing seaweeds 
and waterlily sirens, 
burgeoning in the blurs 
of ravenous memories, 
which the pulse of 
those liquid pearl lilies
left imprinted ~
 in my paranoid psyche.

so, let the periwinkle poppy lips
of restless rivulets
engulf me in their roars ~
and I'll be born
      wearing flamingo fires of love
      parched,
      yet untamed... 
let the waves wash my bones,
and touch me the way
the milk rose moon longs
to hang in the honey-web
   of sun-knitted rain...
   and I'll be the last note ~
         crumbling away...
         shaped in the symphony of grief
         when this musical mandala
         of sorrows and sighs
         remains aglow,
         across hieroglyphic horizons 
         of crashing constellations ~
                encasing elegies
                of those celadon cocoons 
                resting upon ruby reefs, 
                in those shattered stars above ~
                glistening with glints of ginger and rust... 

but I shall still wonder,
if life were tied with the threads of blood ~
to the fate of those
          selkie's fireflies,
falling beneath laughters,
in the abysmal odyssey
of pain-pigmented poseidon ~
would I drift or drown,

     c
          a
                 s     c   
                              a     d      i     n   g

     in crepuscular currents,
    colliding with redolent ruins ~
    in this celtic shrine
                     of satanic stardust?
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