Is every bloody elegy,
Touching the fragile surface,
Edging to consume.
Just a bit more blood on the waves,
Pieces of paper with idle words scrawled upon them,
Flutter and dance,
Flying upon the breeze.
Relinquish the rusting chains.
I see them dangling from invisible threads,
Swaying with the wind,
Tearing the delicate paper to shreds.
Planets are rising higher and higher.
I can't touch them any more,
They float away from me,
My imaginary place has now died.
The notes turn to knives,
And they rip at my flesh,
As I hang from hooks,
Bleeding, my blood dropping into the stream,
As the wind gently beats me against the hooks.
The fish have come up for a taste.
The burgundy sun having disappeared behind the black clouds,
They drink magenta water,
Lifting their faced to the greying skies,
Like children wishing to catch snowflakes on their lips...
But they want raindrops of blood on their white tongues,
Their black lips screaming for more.
They're getting blood-stained tears,
Taking as much life as they can,
Cowering in every bit of black they can find,
Escaping the gone sun,
Which even though hidden, for them is still too bright,
The dying trees on shore offer little refuge,
Though the mosquitoes take what they can.
Ivory fangs glint in the waning white day.
Wishing bells from my other world would peal.
My tears are fruitless, not of use,
They only quench the want of the beasts,
The beautiful corpses, mewling on their knees.
My sins cause me to be clung to these.
All my worlds are dissolving,
Turning to nothing,
As faeries caress my bleeding face.