Fleur du Mal

Infamous flower- plushly petaled poppy your juice is a portal to perdition and pain... Brightly crimson or creamy China White, Do your partakers know that your embrace is never an ascension? Curious creatives and quirky artists, quiet, brooding loners and all you, existentialist seekers and you, hipster mystics, misunderstood orphans of the living- Do you know that your blasphemous communion is but a kiss of death? Numbed, glassy-eyed and guant Do you recognize your unraveling, see your very own plunge? Or do you still romanticize such a sorry state? Hellbent you row down Lethe, arrive on a dark shore, but there are no heroes here, nor heroics only the damned, only heroin's heavy toll...