The second rule of rhodophilia

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Sounds of the desert are similar to steps on snow

shoes of wool of devote brotherhood

Count Nosferatu was driven by a flying heart of silver

to the desert disolved solitude where voices

choose to kiss instead

as dust and he found the double sun

of king and faerie in solitude of purple

and Ginger Queene walking in nerves of innocence

this was known by all in my times

but scratching children have bitten not the rose

and sadness of sun on the clay of air

the key and the sword are futile words to you

wich I call my brother silver heart winged by books

we will smile

we will smile to the wine surface vision of lonelyness

together in a stupid and ornamental fight to demonstrate

further things than innocence

stories of cups of petroleum supposed to awake forever

stories of terror on a disposition of the garden

we will find out on a stone face

this things lacking about some watering

and truth will be a mistery we write about

and truth will run as a wave of fire

in the fingers of a hand in the sky

my victory said the king to the wanderer is being old the same way

cross is dark and gold and stones on my head are pearls in the deep

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The second rule of rhodophilia

is time mistery on silver heart of god's sacrifice

apparently concerning black stories of the past

and of prison and circus

but like a coin taking a bath on a fountain

you shall comme to smell the rose

and forget the first time you killed yourself

by the value of your body into sin

paid to Babylon prestresses and written

like a brand on a prisoner in the wings of marvel flies

and the bees of peace pissing women

in the name of roses go cross the desert and snow

and I have never found you before

You, prey beating like a goddess in tired sleep or swimming-pool

*

Rhodophilia rules beauty and beautiful clouds

of a saint form of nostalgy in the look of desired maids

philosophers have no best definition of loving flowers

sublime ether of first morning rain reminds

and the ring of a goddess ear could not

be most perfect than perversion of men

because roses take no delight in crime and so they feel ashamed

and come back to the beggar with a gift

and this beggar is the Saturday planet

and one day blood willl be Titanium White

and prophecy will be silent pleasure

and Count Nosferatu is the name of Creator

and Capital Letters won't be guilty of memory nevermore

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