Tinted colors in

carousel clusters.

With sulfur and salt,

that make her flustered.

It's in the looming scent

of the words she makes.

In the empty of those

dreams,

she just can't shake...

Abysmal plots inside

her skull.

She owns a different

kind of face;

one with sorrows painted

on her cheek bones.

Liquid eyes, dark and

crystallized.

Now such creatures lurk

beneath the surface

of her cries...

Her secrets were sculpted,

cultivated with briars.

Inward agony, as she

prayed for expire.

So she retired the night,

the skies in her throat.

For she could no long

swallow the very lines,

she pre-chewed just

before she choked...

-HMG