Welcome to Catharosia

Come and succumb to our pitiful wail
An allegory written with paints of girded soul;
There, we drench ourselves in colorful shivers
Here, we cleanse our soul for the joy of the universe;

Another day to create
Roses of the night that result in heavy dreams,
Sorority flies, and dead passions of desperate poets;

In the world where we purge ourselves,
Sanity is not our company—

To the torn pages faded by the light
To the worn out tales dimmed by the dark
Here is our salutations and solitude;

Our words untangled and jumbled tears
Will serve you deeds of crumbling back to a piece;

She oozes blood and agony
He ruptures terrors and improbability
They ***** contemplation and daydreams sewn
We engrave beautiful macabre and adored pain—

Where clowns shall dwell and kings lay to death
Where sins tremble and tragedies rejoice
Jolly remains of the day are what we produce
Masked by anxious sorrows and fear so erudite

If I am salt
In your wounds, I burn
In your mouth, I leave distaste
In your glory, I am the particle swept away
In your ocean, I am the invisible lost one
In your life, I am salt
If I am salt
Then what good am I?
In your burns, I bring cleansing
In your wounds, I bring healing
In your distaste, I bring flavor
In your glory, I stand aside smiling
In your ocean, I bring life
If I am salt