Swinging Trees.

She swings on a tree, committed to fear, listens closely as the rain pours near. So far away, the thunder cracks in her head. Covered by terror and haunted thoughts, she looks down and sees she’s swung too far. Touching her leg, she sees all she’s bled from veins that pour out colors other than red.

Like the Garden of Eden, evil hides here. There is little hope, little love, disguised as beauty (a conniving fiend). She sees her evil lurking above— the sun, constellations, a bull fighting hard. Running wild, swinging from leaves, there is more evil that likes to leer. Preying on victims of common descent, an evil named Lox disguised as “persevere”. But there is no such thing, the swinger screams. He’s cunning and bright, though, a deserving dream.

I watch as he overtakes her mind, the thunder no longer quiet, I begin to die.

The Garden of Eden is inside of you— in your head, in your thoughts, through and through. There is an evil, committed to fear, disguised as a girl swinging in trees. Alive and bleeding, pints of sanity lost, fall for innocence, truth, you’ll bear your own cross.

Unparalled and Uncaged.

Unfaithful to your promises, you’ve paralyzed my soul. A rich halo of gold and white has disguised the demon inside.

My soul is uncaged, protection unbarred, my soul is darkness, incapable of being renewed.

We live with our mind, unparalleled hearts, we live vicariously through the seas. The spirit of unfathomable love, aspiring the creation of majestic love, requiring halos and truth. Our world does not know.

We react, we burn, we are dying today. You alone have uncaged my heart, burned my soul, tore me apart.

Paralyzed bodies, we walk to find majestic love and glory. The glory, the storm, the solitude, the cure. The black spot, the cursed mark, the demented angels.

The demented angels haunt.

We walk with unparalleled hearts, yours unlocked but cursed from the start. That majestic glory and love? I know where it is. You point to yourself. I say you don’t breathe.

Your soul is uncaged, I cursed your heart. Unfaithful to my promises, my mirror shouts to just stop. You are not here. I am gone, too. But your reflection speaks to me.

It’s haunting.
I’m gone.

Desert.

We are an army of soldiers walking the field, watching faces of the enemy become more clear. Open land, no place to hide, we are exposed without time to mitigate fears we have inside.

You lean on me and say, "I've been shot."

And just like that.
You were gone.

"You should have jumped in front," my conscious mind says, "taken the bullet; saved your friend."

I should have jumped, I wouldn't have died-- you're already gone if you're dead inside.