In my sick garden of cruel madness,
We dig bare earth and damp mud
Where incest makes mutants underneath.
Silence hides us; strange, dirty and proper
Making blood echo deep and boom savage.
Dark roses climbed, defeated death and doubt.
Imaginary blue rain was to wash us clean
In the garden bed, that Shade brought
A live vegetable corpse, white as snow.
In my kingdom we are never just green.