A long white box shut tight
Upon it, the summer sun’s display of arrogance
Unseen beneath the golden flames
Shattered wings of glass lie limp
Petals drowning in syrup
Am I naked?
Head to toe, they are covered in the sun’s slime
They talk, talk, talk, why isn’t anyone speaking to me?
Do I know this place, should I let myself be led?
I have no choice, no voice
Kissed insane I struggle against submission
Throw out that pot of yellow glue
I will not be broken
The sky reflects the golden glitter of seas
Forcing the sun to set I slit its throat and drain its pus
Stasis in winter
Moon-struck
Eyes resting
Enveloped in white petals
My body smiles with accomplishment
I am the illusionist’s lover
No fear, no fear, no fear
Bewitched perhaps, blasé nevertheless
Veil of white ennui
The queen bee is untouchable
The last golden drop, chilled
Begins its descent from the glass blade
A sickening perversion in the gracious glacier
