In which I confide

I filter my glimpse with paradise raw
Cancer baits the fruit, my scapegoat of awe
My nurturing veins feed stagnated seas
An infantile wave of calm, mature in disease

A warm gift of weakness in which I confide
Milks the flesh of fertility, designates my bride
So dry is the fortress, so moist are the ruins
The texture of forbidden wealth across my body strewn

Pleasant stains of aggravation cultivate my wine
A luxury in preservation, the taste of rare divine
Infatuation coats the seed I harvest from my soul
The color or my weakened heart resembles that of coal

I tear away serenity from pools of haunted lust
Wait to feel my sacrifice to daily course adjust
Mended molds of vintage fake shape my ardent pride
I sink into the distant corpse that waits in fertile tide