back on the scene

roses were never my favourite flowers, such
fine structures and fragile creases, such
full milky lips with
sensitive posture they, can easily deceive the
black and white.
flowers like green eyes, i gaze through them and see forever-
never can she cease to flow.


purple veins swim through pink flesh, she,
the right hand maid to lust knows her vessels are but
hollow.
her body is a masquerade, her body but a waltz, my eyes dance to her
serpentine gaze, her green eyes,
i can't stay 
away, what is an hour when a second is a
day, and a promise is a promise when it comes to the grey but
left in the clockwork of her heart, for her i pray.
it's as much as i ever could anyway, because black and white is just
easier sometimes.
she will never be mine, her thorns too sharp for my
weak skin, i cower away from her royalty.
her life is a paradox sending shivers down my spine so
i walk into the grey and forget about the black and white, for
although her petals will forever be my everlong
her water is but poison to me.

my favourite song today

just something about it.

same

bruises fade from purple to yellow, and leaves
on skin decay as time learns to loosen its grip.
you have to forget to scratch your own back sometimes be
cause
doors can never be locked when you don't own the
key and
don't forget: legs can
never be broken when they don't belong to you.

you're a slow motion suicide

incomplete

i'm on a journey to the grey because
black or white just isn't enough for me, so
meet me sometime i'll
be at the core of the venn diagram-
where east meets west, where it's
a blessing to be blind so meet me at the centre,
where my soul can meet my mind.

thank you ganesha

for reminding me of this song.
say. no. more.