Wildflower

Baby I’m a wildflower who grew in your garden,
among the orchards and the snowdrops from the winter.
I was your lucky little weed.

A daisy whose petals you could pluck at
to figure out who you loved.
Dreamt with me tangled up in your golden grown.
Kept me on a chain, wrapped around your wrist.

Or maybe I was a dandelion,
you blew out into the wind
longing for something else.

But you wasted your wishes on a dream,
lost your breath on an unwanted thing.

Until I was gone
and then you moved on.

Threw your little wildflower away

to find yourself a rose.

Let me start again

Nature babe it comes to soon
especially for me and you;
songs won’t play inside you’re head
so, listen to the radio instead.

Tell me you love me,
lie to my rotten mind,
all else of me is tainted
untill you walked in here tonight.

Boy, you’re too hard to look at.
My dress to white, to tight
hear to the whispers all around
then stab me wherever you like.

Baby, call me poison,
call me your destruction
I’m not a pretty flower or a lost cloud
innocence ran away long ago.

Now its time for you to take
the false prophet of purity,
we’re just to liars
only to our ugly selves.

Stop calling me kid
don’t mention anyone else,
you are nothing special
just a name I won’t forget.

I have wasted too much time
chasing fairy tales and lies
now I see, you’re the best
that I’m ever going to find.

The chaos is coming;
my green ring across your back
a daisy growing in my mind.
What festers in you’re brain?

Kissing is an overrated thrill
pain means nothing at all
blood is for fools
bur it finds itself onto my legs

You looked at me one last time
alost girl who wasted too much time.
There we were in the back of your car
with wonderwall playing at a local bar;

No one can save me now.

Kiss me then leave the next day

Love is for the idle dreamers,
they covet it like a pirate,
alone at the sea for years
searching for the most golden treasure in all of the seven seas.

But me you see, I’m different.
What I want is far from the fairytales I was raised on,
the ones that inhabited my veins and brain for years on end.
It’s not something for those epic love songs,
or love stories in orgasmic movies that make loveless teenagers girls swoon.

I want a lover to drink with, in the moments before the broken hour,
someone to dance with in the bottom of midnight,
I don’t need to feel like the only one,
to receive flowers at my door the very next day,
to belong to some grand idea of sweeping beauty and ideals of a time gone by.

I met a boy, in a dusk of delightful desire,
and come across me was a feeling of peace
when is eyes placed themselves on my fault-full face,
but I won’t kiss him with devotion,
I won’t hold him close to my chest and speak in magnificent epigrams,
all I desire in my born broken heart
is for him never to close enough,
to see the girl crying,
to see the child still holding on to roses left at her door
and take me dancing.

An almost memory

On the eve of an eclipse
I walked alone to an empty beach that had come to me in a dream.
Then, as I almost remembered,
a thousand fragments from a forgotten childhood came to me:

The submarines and mermaids that were once there,
a little girl making dreams in the sand
as the waves watched on, kissing the cliffs
turning broken hearts to cotton candy,
but that was all gone.

At the top of a great mountain
looked on by a finally calm sea
I stared up and up,
to a sky of fractured clouds.

Then I jumped

and as I fell into the sea
the ashes on my skin were washed away,
the words that echoed in my head a thousand years
turned to dust of forgotten days.
My eyes, they dried
my heart, it finally healed.

Then as my lungs filled with water
my clothes ripped off.
So, I took my stolen dagger
and finally choose my way out.
Killed the girl I once was,

once an hour passed
I dried up on an empty beach
born again.

Only hollow things drown

Oh no, I have died again.

My body is breaking down
inside the hallow ground
I can feel the soil,
clogging up my lungs
and turning my heart to gold.

I don’t know who killed me;
this time.
He was a coward, I imagine.
Who stabbed me in the back
then sent my mind below

Dying is a crime
i’m well versed in.
I fell down and down
and over and over.

I hadn’t yet chose which way to die
not like before.

I found a bottle filled
like a rattle toy,
I had as a child
it emptied in minutes,

Then He revived me and
like Cain I killed him.

My hands now moving,
my blood is boiling,
my fingers print clawing up,

wasting a life.

Our synapses are hopeful,
pulling me into the air.
I rose up,
saw the trees
covered in blood
And walked away.

Don’t you worry, I will die again.
But that time better
More beautiful and
romantic.
Fall into the water and hopefully
the lonely moon won’t bring me back

again.

It’s all been done before

Coffee and roses beaming through
cracked walks of ivy and stone.

Like wine glasses emptying slowly
bleeding into the floor.

Give me a glass, give me neon.
Give me sultry desire wrapped up in glitter.

Burnt out cars, window tainted sour
driving into the midnight sunset.

Trust me when I say, stay away from the moors,
all that lays there are death and lonely skeletons

Children who won’t grow up,
they lay lost, oh please give me hope.

Smelling coffee and roses,
singing lost stories.

Burn it down

Someone once cried into the dying night.

For candles and wet witches to light
or wait for the wildfires to catch
and save their life

or kill them first.
They would burn in a white fire,
like that of a broken girl’s eyes
waiting for her heart
to be lit up like a cigarette.

Wishes and dreams betrayed them,
the fire took over

but somewhere out in the lost forest
someone else cried out,
over her stolen innocence
and forgotten life,

so, the dying night
became day instead.

Black and White Roses

You spend all your days
writing your stolen stoic siliques
on your throne made from white roses;

which should be mine.

Dream you dreams of a better world,
where the fire in the core
of your broken world,
dies out, yet we’re still alive.

The earth is at your feet,
following your stupid rules
of hope and good.
Where altruism follows through
and evil was lost and gone.

I forgot a long time ago,
I was the Grimm antagonist.

The master deceiver,
the treacherous villain.
I’m the evil witch,
who breaks the worlds hearts
with her whore magic,
concocted from dead flowers
and broken desires.