memory weeds (edit Todd)

[vagabond]

memory weeds  


they still feed
on the old compost mound.
these nettles that sting, 
never touching my skin.
i watched purple patterns being burned on your back. 
now like then
all i do is just turn.

st john's words are wilting
in my questioning hands,
his blossoms are turned into drops of red ink.
all this is comfort
i cannot process.

in the shade of the weeds,
from the black fertile soil
wild strawberries grow like sweet ruby dreams.
they mock with stale taste,
but i eat anyway.

memory weeds  

they still feed
on the old compost mound.
these nettles that sting, 
never touching my skin.
i watched purple patterns 
being burned on your back. 
now like then
all I do is just turn.

in the hot july sun
st john's words are wilting.
in my questioning hands
blossoms turn into drops of red ink,
all this comfort
I cannot process.

in the shade of the weeds,
from the black fertile soil
wild strawberries grow like sweet ruby dreams.
they mock with their taste,
it´s too stale, 
but I eat anyway.

this is probably a little too cryptic but i still would be thankful for any kind of associations that it might evoke. as always i also would be thankful for comments on wording, grammar mistakes, logical errors and so on)