Pull the wool over the centre of my scorn
like an air born storm seeking a stark relief
Vanity bleeds with a ***** of my thorn
My milk drips like rain from my well worn teats

My poplin was weaved from the cotton of a slave
My bread baked like a monks last rosary bead
My spark is lost in the sins of my ash
The past is reborn in the bud of a funeral wreath

Unsheathe your knife while I let down my hair
I am born towards the air and your sweat deep beneath
Belief is a question best left in the glittering rain
The moon is encircled in the suns shadow and pain

What appears in the mirror is not necessarily true
My lamb bleats as boy blue plays his horn
Jealously writhes like a snake shedding her skin
I die in your moment until mine is reborn

Kiss my forehead with the scars of past remains
settle into me without fences or names
The wildest horse is this mare with an inky blank mane
Dripping ink and dreams al over the place

Who says I had a choice then or now
To follow my heart or to fetch fallow stars
It matters not if perspective says you're at the top or bottom stair
The wand weaves its magic in spirals mid air

The dairy maid lifts her apron towards the sky
Sighs at another day of being on her knees
No matter how hard she scrubs the stains won't go away
She won't wake up pretty but she still believes

The wolf  is a friend to the girl in the red hood
who goes to bed with a ***** and a howl
Pacing back and forth she rocks the censer of your earth
unwringing the  sponge      while throwing in the towel

My sash was sliced with the thinnest line of red
Berries crushed virginity seeps like an endless blush
My wish was to be chosen like a dark angel at the foot of your bed
Tightening with each plunk of your fruits echoing in my pail

Unfold me like the beauty beneath a forgery
so well done though by anothers hand
Unbend me like a willow branch from the holes in your fence
then dig me deep across the acres of free land

Let the tapestry gather motes of silver dust
The spiders trust is an eighth of eternity
The king swallows the pearls on his sceptre while the queen slides through the eye of the needle- a sugar cube is melting in a porcelain cup

Wink your eye then blink back the tears of infinity
The wheels spin as the story unfolds
The castle has but chambers where the fools below in relief
The court jester juggles like a dwarf on speed
Vashti Puls