Sniffing powdered white off my nannas vintage mirror
My inheritance,
My dignity gone
Nannas old, she's dying
Told me stories about the fairies in her head
Dancing her to sleep each night
Would dance upon my head ....

The sunlight filtered in waves as bright as the hope in her eyes
Clouds had been cast away and for once the blue of a new sky shone
Like diamond

there's a slow burn in her words
I've come familiar with drawls
I watch your voice turn to coffee
I sip from your jaw
I'm not thirsty, just nervous
speaking in black caffeine tongues

"I'll fiend before it starts
& I'll feel clean after it's done"

cause you can't run from the two lungs
catching breath after breath

& you can't squeeze life back from death
if it is dead
then it is dead

His dog chased her
through the woods.
The rifle can **** from
three-hundred yards.

Watch her leap logs
and sidestep
sticks grabbing
at her shoulders.

There are three Gods
in the woods,
behind any tree.

No one is as ruled
as the lawless.
No one is as sedated
as the frenzied.

Sympathy couldn't be
measured in screams,
but measured
in her breaths.

Beyond the
honeydew horizon,
the senseless cease.
The half-life of eyes:
her only escape.

Where the tree-trunks
are furnished by the
candied corpses.
Her feet chomp at the
prostituted ground.

She will die, here,
whether she lives
or not.
For what is stolen,
stays.