Blood Red Rose-Incomplete

Not yet had I begun to find lide, when I found death. An everlasting existance of extraordinary dementia. First full of pinwheels, brilliant colorful twinges of starlit adventures, but then always, the hue merging, unifying, slipping, clinging, dripping, down the walls. One large river, tributary forming into a pool of blood red. All I had to see was darkness and the and the life of others pass through my dirty decayed fingers.

Ashes, when I would first rise, would be what I breathed in, first thing in the evening. I would only be wishing I could join the staining sooty dust, yet I could not let go, nor could I visibly remember what light looked like. If I could not remember light, then how could I remember dark?

It was all black living until one day. I wandered through the rain, slicking my eyesight so much that I feared my eyes were deceiving me in the utmost fashion. Oh, but as I wandered down the dirty road my body was drawn to her. A young supple vision of divinity in tattered red cloth of what I imagined, was the finest silk. I hobbled, feeling crippled, trudged throught the mud. The trees reached with their clawed branches as I leaned toward this pale glowing orb of beauty, waiting for me. I could feel her heart radiating across the skin of mine that I had long stopped calling my own.

The rain bounced off her firm exposed bossom, slipping across her face as I marveled upon it. Her long spilling hair cascaded upon the ground, deeply fiilled with autumn tones of the purple and red leaf. Down her long wonderous nose, no doubt formed from the ancient Greek beauties, my eyes wandered. My heart went a flutter and I thanked every rosed for ever reaching to the sky for they all had been collected and used to paint this sweet dove's lips.

I finally see her neck, throbbing, pulsing the veins carrying each cell, liquid fire, low embers though, no flame. There is no structure, no dam that can encompass this waterfall, tidal wave of yearning. Perhaps it overwhelms me so much that I dare not bring a finger across her, yet as I am imagining the emergence of this new notion, I am in in the utter realization that my nail, claw is crossing her bare milky shoulder. Suddenly a spark, a flutter like a butterfly's wings as it rests upon a rock drying itself as it has just burst out of a cocoon, is there under fine long lashes. I see a glimmer of sunlight within tired eyes, yet they gleam with gem-like quality. Emeralds to be exact.

I hear a breath through petal parted lips. As it drifts over my body a shiver runs through me. The virgin wind sweeps over me, brushing cobwebs out of my twisted black blood.

I await to taste her, my tongue almost twinging, ticking the time away, a clock suddenly springing its rusty self to life. My full attentio adheres to each and every subtle movement.

I fear that I am melting. Save me sweet doll...