My hand is grazed by thin scattered bits of a flask
As my skin is kissed by the cursed flow of the ether
The red line of the sliced vein melts with the ember
Of the cruel poison if you put down your mask.

The perfume descends down my warm palms
Engraving on it its lethal bite,
My mind reaches a new height
As my soul screams in spams.

Collapsing in a gasp of air, in a long gauzy gown
Creased like a shroud to welcome a body at auction sold
Like a flower-shaped corolla poured out against some gold.

At the temple of agony, convulsing painfully
In the sacred desire of her mortal folly
Corrupted creature, ***** in her Dream
And of her life stops the stream.

Freshman, College of Humanities. Joffre, Montpellier. Translated on May, 9, 2014.