the hearth that plays upon
gold-trimmed porcelain
like a grand *****

the room that pulls your steps forward
and makes your eyes glowing

held up by a chemical dream
woven of nothing
so sweetly kissed by nothing on all sides

i am the death god
i am the room held up by dreaming
that hosts the phallus and the womb

a fixed stare
a lovely dare
a poetic doom