Your body is a wonderland
he says
if that is honesty pure.

Then the trees on my
landscape
are in flames
and the skeletons of life stalk
the lands
preying on innocent souls.

And the weather is me
for the storms rage and
collapse in on themselves
and the wind turns
your flesh
into the burns of a
inferno
and the acid rain melts the life
within.

Your body is a wonderland
to you,
perhaps,
but the truth can lie
paradox

Have you seen me?

Perhaps not,
if wonderful exists
in your
vocabulary.