Conflagration

I see clearly in this dream.
A flower blooms near a water scene.
What happens when that flower bleeds?
When it struggles to survive?
How often do we see...?
Life is not what it seems:
An unsavory collection of scenes
Strewn together in haphazard fashions.

I see clearly in this dream,
A forest falls victim to conflagration.
Do you see this despair is a heroin induced fugue?
Clean in your veins
But poison for the mind.
You're not as you seem:
A poster child of illicit themes
Thrown into a bitter regime.
Forced to be what you ought not to be.

Lifescapes.

The sun sets,
The ground weeps.
Light is cast
And the shadows creep.
Ground is cold,
Rapidly warming.
A dense fog pours
Over the landscape.

This land is alive like me,
It bleeds and breaths
Breeds and concedes defeat.
Its' greenest greens are likened
To my need to create.
The bluest blue of a sky so deep
Much like the sadness I often feel.
Or gleaming like the light
Of a setting sun.
This world is me, I am this world in turn.