Edges of forestry bloom rapid.
Corrosively one bites back the fear of illusion.
Distinctive waves of organic nausea weed through.
Parading loose bars in search of languid melodies.
"Learn" a voice slithered through the roughage.
Bending and twisting indecent exposure.
Carrying beyond the merrowed loins.
Allusion where for art thou in such a time of need.
I cannot speak, I cannot breathe.
Forever will you be lost,
Even when you're right beside me.
I miss your tender smile,
Your weeping eyes.
The thoughts you gave me and your lies.
Lost can no longer be found.
So I shall bend and twist my way.
Carry the loins, search for the melody
And weed through.
So that some day I will bloom.
Bloom with the rest and become the sweet illusion of disillusion.