Lured into the cave
by curly hair
reflected on the ceiling
behind the entrance, I hope

to discover a wonder
not believing in an evil
spell that will **** me
on a chilly oyster bank

shivering I lie on the nail bed
that is cutting open my skin
while I repeat the mantra
It's not real, the knives

about to fall, the horror
of the maggots that slither
to my eyes and pop into
my head like dying fireworks

It's not real, It's not real
it's the cool of the mountain
it's ice drip and stalactites
it's the shiny glitter

of water on the wall, wonders
of pristine nature, feeding
my imagination with images
of what I don't want to do to her