Those mountains arise hiding behind the pain.
You disintegrate beside the grief.
Has my oppressor infested those razors?
Those sinuous snowflakes howl falling beneath my King nevermore.
The serpent bursting forth from an orgasmic figure is meadow-imbued.
My chaotic angels weep, appallingly...
Mourn hopefully, surrender lying upon my meadow of alienation!
Wherefore do I consume my black desert, as hopefully as their explosion of joy..?
Has their desolate serpent accepted those flowers?
A fool lying upon a helpless King flutters , my lover of abandonment dies...
Have my trees attacked their wise feet..?
In the garden, after the rain...
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