Run to your enchantments Of languid polarized madness Lay beside insipidly hued oceans Wearing naked and tasteless appetites For your mothers provide the boundaries Of restless complex ambiguities That are deep forests of green reflections Made blackened in the shadows Of your self indulgent soliloquies As you chase golden winged butterflies In a yellow glistening moon Until wildly they bash against The rocks of your slight indifference In the darkness, in the blackness In the light of your demented considerations No fire mounted candles to see your path Nor heart to follow incessantly In the bosom of your latent infectious intentions Run to the color of tortured blue eyes My woman child My fair lunatic Forever searching for outstretched wings To fly To glide upon the wind of benevolent sorrows Forever encapsulated in the arms Of the Darkangel that hears your anguished cries And to find rest in the silken feathers of death With love in spiritual awakening Eternally released from entrapped boundaries Of your mother's idealistic condolences As two shadows become an aberration Of moanful singularity