yet i am
not a virgin
yet i wasnt fertile
the snakeskin
made suffocate
in my own flowers
which caused angels cum
the irreversible sin
the wild
and the beast
the purgatory
the joker
the dancing queen
the raped virgin
hipersterile perfectionism
deadman laughs
in wicked manipulation
of subconscious magic.
the kid did not even knew
what’s inversed in primordial waters,
ancient endless forests.
abbys is a mirror
- soul dancefloor
where all illusions fade away
to the falling rain
what’s still to drift
doesn’t matter
is melting aether
of now
infected wounds
mutated roses.
yet muse, but late to heavenly parties,
opalic, sacred, porcelain heart,
just a curtain from blinding light.
bursting and flaming in hopeless night,
bleeding and blooming in destruction of time,
incepted in separation,
lost tribes.
but I am wind, stardust, and ashes.
