Roses

 swear I can still remember my steps
as I closed in on an unclear future, my 
footsteps accompanied by the raging dance
between roses and dark-grey thorns and 
green vines.

As the sun dawned, I cleared the clutter from my head,
only choosing to hear words that brought out the love I hid,

in my head, I pictured the birth of new skulls and imagined bullets penetrating me from every side, 

as I chanced upon the border of love and a forest of wild berries and smog, 
I chose to release the built up smoke.

I swear I can still remember my rasping
as I shut my eyes to a future I was scared of, my
footsteps accompanied by a man who looked like an older me,
he grinned and gave me a black lotus along with red and orange feathers,
in the relentless rain.

The sun’s rays touched my cold heart, 
various coloured flowers flowered within my depths,

overtime the colours fused and formed a colour that resembled
a deep shade of purple,

my best friend, madness itself,
paid me a visit as I started to scratch my face with frustration 
and dry rage.

A lunatic’s bones smile at me while
spring erupts in all it’s glory all around 
the misfortunate, and while I throw my woes
in the air, a butterfly sits on top of my shoulder,
a skeletal hand grabs my legs but the butterfly
lifts me from the burial grounds that I had been standing 
on all my life, into a sky where ashen trees grow on 
pockets of thunder clouds. 

All alone in an abyss where people are just stagnant,
with words as sharp as knives, but they are not aimed at me,
they are aimed at all that I stand for,

with only my soft flowers and fragile green bottles,
I stand alone, 
afraid of this time that I was born in.

Only a rosary keeps me company
as I ask the lord for forgiveness for
the garden of sin I grew as the sun
merciful rained it’s corrupt rays on me,

the sunflowers of this world never face my direction

for it is a sin to look at darkness with an innocent face,

trees wither and the weather is enraged by the smoke 
emanating from my tired feet and exhausted lungs,

I chance upon a budding black lotus
but it dies too as I touch my rosaries 
on it’s many fragile petals.