My hands grip the smoke in the air
circling my fingers as though to tease me.
The endless form of vapor shapeshifts
passing through my palm,
as though my existence was a distant laughter
that does not echo
but fades away.

Dashing, charming,
full of foolery,
She unwinds with legs of poison
sitting still on top the table,
seeping deep into my mind.

The image stains the flesh
and how I wish I could undress
the bottle of her sickly cyanide.

But taste testing pills and potions
made to drowse and **** the roses
are not nearly as sweet as implied.

So I admire from afar
oohing and awing at the bar
staring at the glass
and not taking a bite.

The illusion of control
ripples in front of my reflection.
The water reflects the state of the soul:
Shifting and changing
with a mere drop
causing faces
to distort.

There is a comfort in knowing
that the waters will calm
once more.

I have seen the devil
with her sharp smile
and eyes that pierced
the milky way.

Her teeth ached for my skin
and I became religious:

Not out of a need for a God to save me,
but for a need for something holy
to exist.

Mark me with the sin of desire
my skin is tainted flesh.
Communion wine spilled,
on the bride's wedding dress.
And when all is said and done,
I do's, blessings, and Amens,
They will consummate that marriage,
and live in the sin of regret.

God is 1000 pieces of shattered glass
begging to be put together,
inside you see your reflection
and wonder why is God's so much better.

Death has been unkind
in his murky, flowy form,

teasing me endlessly
and his laughter, I can't ignore.