I shall tell you about the day I lost my mind. In a way, I guess I was probably the most sane person in my…
The savage beauty that grows
in the wild garden of your heart.
without the roses to soften the sting.
The living tempest in the mind
that grows and swallows
the light behind your eyes.
Fixation in the prime of love,
the regret of solace
instead of transcendence.
Feeding on the flecks of stars in your eyes,
What happens to the light
after it is devoured?
I need to feed my passion,
Hunger pains me in the safety of my room,
What can you serve me
so that I can see the beauty in the end?
What victory can compare
to the failure of my ignorance?
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