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Black water diaries: Disintegration on Longhorn Street
Mother is asleep in her garden,
I scream that your roses are not red anymore,
They appear discolored at your nurturing,
You never did mind the coddling of your dying house,
And so I tend to your crumbling heaven,
If I had given you eyes,
you would tear out the emeralds at your expense,
My loveless dreamer,
Rotting at my bedside,
I am too tired to bury you again,
I imitate your death,
And keep the hell I fell in love with
© cankered cupid
I scream that your roses are not red anymore,
They appear discolored at your nurturing,
You never did mind the coddling of your dying house,
And so I tend to your crumbling heaven,
If I had given you eyes,
you would tear out the emeralds at your expense,
My loveless dreamer,
Rotting at my bedside,
I am too tired to bury you again,
I imitate your death,
And keep the hell I fell in love with
© cankered cupid
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