u/Ego_Haven

I can hear the rustling of the tabebuias,

Their petals' soft sighs;

Landing pink on bronze.

My mind is

Racing like the carmine train that'll soon spread the scent of blossoms and green in the air

Racing to shatter and mute

The unbroken silence

Amidst the prime of eras (primaveras)

Only to crash into the next firethorn wall,

Another breakdown, another

rereading of Ecclesiastes.

For my tongue sounds no buzz towards today's sweet nectar.

The belladonnas?

They lead me astray.

And I know each flower in my bouquet

will

one day

God knows I'm not a venus flytrap,

But I guess being here makes me one.

My art cannot reach for you,

But it can feed you

A stew of lentils,

Or melt the gunmetal

Your ego clings onto.

This is my ego haven,

Here I'm echoed through the walls.

This is my manifesto,

Here I am not percieved.

May it find

Your shadow;