Whispering Crimson

You be the cynic  
And I’ll be the hope  
We bleed the red waters  
we’ve structured to cope  
Binding desires  
with  
counterfeit kin  
Availing imperil  
I’m sterile within  
 
Splayed imperfections  
A  
thoughtless  
terrain  
An impressive collection  
of  
deflection was lain  
 
A mast  
of  
desire  
A sensitive skin  
Vested in fire  
In dire, we sin  
 
A crease  
of  
its wisdom  
A sheath  
of  
goodwill  
I bide by division  
Providing its skill  
 
Slated to nothing  
disempowering shrines  
A fenced in reaction  
That slowly confines  
 
Capturing visions  
Provisions  
of  
Time  
Whispering crimson  
Enraptured  
in  
rhyme