The flowers of destruction are blooming - Their end's prophecy looming as They bend under the weight Of their perpetually sleepy heads Rising to the heavens from their Earthy garden beds. They reach deep into the earth They rise to meet the sun. They look for water And when they find none Their petals all fall One by one By One By one Revealing their true purpose Showing their true colors Reaching their full potential And scattering the seeds of A thousand little deaths To grow or wither or flourish: A field of naked spikey heads. The flowers of destruction are Creeping Like vines they go a crawling In between the cracks Causing the crumbling Of the wall Of that long shrouded hall Of your dark sanctuary. Soft tendrils Hardening in the Turning of the sun Forcing apart the bricks Making space Where there once was none. Poison feathers fall between The spaces in the rows Of the beans that are planted And the crops that no Human hand did sow. The quills they are all sharpened The ink it has been dipped Into the blood that has dripped And fallen from my fingertips, Breaking spells that And soft and gauzy minds Have ripped. Athena she is weaving Some sturdy fabric dreams To fill in the patches That have fallen To the ripping And the shredding Of the seams. A cloak of many colors To fix what has been Deconstructed. An arrow to pin the buttons Of a soul that's been tormented. Are the seeds all but planted? Are those septic words yet sown? Are the actions all been harvested? Have the stepping stones all Been twisted and turned? Are those flowers of destruction Offering their seeping pods? Have the slash marks all been milked For the dreams that hold within them Calling me from this realm Into the fabled Land of Nod? And in resin a flower sits naked, Poison preserved in inequity Some tiny spell is broken Over my back and Across my knee. Small curses such as flowers Find their way back home Into a fairy bower dying Back into the mud and loam. Do not mock me dark crone! Do not set my jaw in stone, Do not think that I don't see How the flowers of destruction Call from you to me And play sweet music To tempt my soul back To an eternal home. Do not think your potions That sit in the belly of the spoon Are enough to lead me From the Wilderness In which I roam. The flowers of destruction I know them, They are but friends to me. I have sipped at their debauchery, My cup did overflow. I listened as they talked to me, I dragged their milky tears home. I shot their visions to the heavens I chased the dragons to their dens. The death dreams that you foresaw For me Are but another's Gentle end. Thrice times unwoven eastwards Thrice times to the iron well Unwound unbound Unbroken The flowers are my friend Not foe.