Leave me with the perfume of a dream; of the earth below my knees. Let me rest in the deep dimensions of an unknown reality.If the fruit of my spirit shall not blossom, what then shall I eat? I will starve, if this be my feat.
Joy shows up bleeding, begging for release. Freedom is no longer tangible, unless you count the chain you hold attached to your feet. No longer does freedom mean free, unless you lie to yourself while forgetting about your dreams.
Lay me down and let me burn. For I am broken and in constant yearn. I've seen the beauty from what was black ashes... Maybe then I'll find release. Maybe then I'll become something. Something humanly un-ugly.
