Bleeding ScreamsIn Wilted Rose

Dreams so clean, of angels siren call a far cry from the ravenous teeth of our papered wasteland. Beauty sparks strum the harp far between the sheets of lemon drops. I wait for all the sideways looks fearing your loves hooks. A jackpot of foreign feelings head over hand in excess truth. Dried and drained an atomic wave of cheap shots and bomb drops. Left in the dark to sing a lullaby to guide me a few five minutes time. Out of darkened sanity comes bells to ring the dreams final crescendo.

A path mapped out for the newcomer to find our burning ties, a sign in the dark for modest madness. Fleeting words suspended in the clearing for all to peer into the proximity. Rolled into the ground and buried six feet over from the turning point. Save your own soul and sail toward the open shores away from care and lying tears.

Glorified words of envious dreams, a fly to rest on ground halls. Dying shame forever to burn the fires of our malcontent. Say when if the fires get to high to walk without dragging your heart through the open air. Twist the arms to get back the long fought out desert of less then enough. Wells spring forth when the lovers quarrel a crude oil drains the life of paper men while open shouts kill the truth. They all take apart the the inter weaved strings colored in red bound to the ground with love swept tall tales.

Final bells toll along the crash and fawn colored skies dawn upon the waves. Too much patience left to break clean the blind mans hands. Stranger the fact truer then fiction, tears swept under the curtains as lies fall, and goodbyes break on promises choked down with spirit and smiles. Forget the taste of roses and wilting smiles, bleeding screams fill the cool dry air.