Blood River

. . . and there I grew these roses with my flesh and blood.
When we were one,
our blood flowed smoothly
between our joint veins.
We lived one life,
we breathed together
through the same lungs.
and I was happy. . . yes I was.

We gave each other more than half a year,
more than half a pint, more than half a quart
gave more to this Blood River.
It was strong. . . yes it was.

Not so long ago our Beloved Blood River
slowly, died without it's rythymic flow,
all tied up and dried up.
It gave way, our Blood River
skin dry parched and peeling,
to gushing clots and memories.
My adrenalin rushes
slowly seeping out of my fingertips.
It hurt like hell,
but then I was free. . . yes I was.

My flesh and my heart remended my wounds.
I played with them,
I built and destructed many rivers.
I grew tired and weary. . . yes I did.
With closed eyes,
I searched through the thick and stickiness
and felt my way back to your body
. . . and there I grew these roses with my flesh and blood.
  ¶ 5:58 PM