Sunday, May 22, 2011

The Breach


Water mixed with Wine –to cheapen the taste.

Sorrow mixed with Joy –to depose pure bliss.

A piercing bitter taste is left in my mouth;

I have no affinity for things of the past,

Nostalgia does not suit me

And yet the crimson in everything reminds me of bygone days

It calls my name

--beckoning me to the joy of ecstasy--

--pointing back to the days of opaque dreams, when happiness was promised to never cease--


Oaths were for forgotten

Glasses were broken

Whites were bloodied and stained.

The fragile gate to happiness was shattered.

Strangers breached and changed the meaning of



And Dreams

They R



away with mirth –ever so quickly– and replaced it with an indescribable sense of melancholy.

We no longer know what happy really means or

What CRIMSON verily looks like.