Nerve fraying, killer of my resolve, unspooling strength. Achromatic, candy-
perfumed tonic snuffing out my will. This
is dangerous. The blink of licking
heat, so quick consumed.
I'm unable. Unstable and unsteady here beneath your talent. Suicide, this
time. In these doting hours,
I'm well aware, confounded later. Like
straight back out
of passages from her diary,
the alpha-girl's new addiction. This
isn't good. The wild wonder,
sparing moments, rare it's been and then told, golden. Soon, I'll be sifting through debris of fractured disposition.
But, oddly raw, unprecedented tragedy houses inside my stomach, though
drama and the drivel have never
left me. My
still haunt,still live,
gush indulgent, endless riches. Accompany me, then-
innocence aside. The war of blossoming begins to
petals of what I haven't yet said.
Spring flaunts her crocheted motions, taunts what she knows of bittersweet promises but
this winter, I'm here among the perfect chill of captivation and the trademark point of wind descends.
escalates as contradictions end.
Imaginary Garden With Real Toads