Road Crash of Words
Upon the doorstep of my paradise,
You’ll find h e l l i s h pansies and t a i n t e d tulips,
obscured within a heart-shaped topiary….
As the sky is a deep purple b r u i s e,
where daisy chains run
the length of open c o r p s e s,
Yet the altruistic sun too
cannot disperse this f o g….
For what you thought may
be the lane to the harvest moon,
is a feasting of bitter petals and fruits.
Not every aesthetic flower smells as sweet,
and not every star that flickers is
your golden lamp..
So walk through my haven
of truth with an open mind. …..
Ever since oxygen
became my gravity,
I've been
forever fighting-
road crash of emotions…
I'm still crashing
as hopes keep crushing.
Sometimes somethings
aren't what we perceive
from our eyes,
whilst nothing may
be deciphered
as it should be,
running your thoughts
through this web
of woven words
can drive you up
to an unfamiliar cliff,
so save yourself from
the sweat of having
to read between
these lines.
I speak in
eternal metaphors,
as I follow the roots
of where my pain
has emerged.
Emotions have
exploded from corners
where my soul
was most at peace,
when heart breakers
and dream crashers
thrashed my once
virtuous visions,
that left me hanging
loose with
alienated alliterations,
until the premonition
of a silent savior,
who emerged from
the scars of
wounded warriors,
his enchanted melody
eliminated my feelings
long dead,
igniting an internal bonfire
within an asylum of triggers.
Although simple minds
cannot comprehend
the motionless existence
of splitting paranoia
deriving from an
archive of old poems,
my ink refuses to
freely flow in lucidity,
such is the world
of virtual insanity,
where unwanted labels
are tossed like
feathers of the fallen.
In the coexistence
of downcastness,
It's no coincidence that
I resemble a
cumulus of clouds,
before they form
into a seething storm,
nor is it a surprise
that I am a profusion
of rays before sunrise.
I am the alchemistic
shadows
before
darkness
I am all the little
details you chose
to abandon..
so let me revive
in undermined silence.
where speech
is judged
as a sinful oath,
only a luscious psycho
would resonate with.
Trust is a double
edged dagger,
translucently lost
in translation,
where precious memories,
trigger the beginning
of an unremitting end,
with guilt dosed in
deprived skeletons,
I have buried
deep inside me.
I no longer live in
the past
where there
is no refund for regret.
Passengers who
travelled without
a guarantee,
were unable to take control
of my steering wheel,
quitting this 'road trip',
leaving me like
a rejected vessel.
I wandered on a
lonesome path,
until a serenity of
waves led to words,
resembling
petals
and
pearls.
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Ink Empress
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