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Warm, red liquid oozes from the deep gorges in the pale surface. Scarlet rivers wind down the long, thin path, away from the valley. Running downhill as all rivers do, even those of rose-coloured water.It glistens and glows, now the bright-hot colour of the evening sun, now deep ruby red, stone cold, crystal.
Suddenly, the land shifts, is pressed against another surface. The ruby rivers break their banks, covering the smooth planes.
As the surface becomes open to the air once more, salty raindrops splash down into flooded rivers, few at first, but soon becoming a torrent of huge, salt water droplets. They sting the land as they hit, diluting the scarlet rivers. And suddenly they are no longer beautiful, but murky, disgusting, seen for what they truly are. Death streams running from scarred land, the blood gushes out of the deep, clear, cuts, staining the pale, once flawless skin.
But soon the colours swril, collide, mix, like oil on water. Blood red, pale skin, distant colours of the earth below, a blur of tears. And darkness begins to obscure them, a black ink running across the sky. An endless night masks the disgusting beauty. A death night. Never to be lifted again.

Hehe. See if you can figure out what it's really about.
It's not particularly good, written at 1:30am, but I like it.