• The pupil dances... in full bloom, to mock
    or to ornament? To judge is futile.

    My veins talk, of grief and stress and decay.
    In the defluxion, sugar and songs
    are filtered, to their little nuclei's festoon
    to be peril tunes and eerie flavors.

    Beloved, doors are closed, I vomit you.
    Roads are blocked and you retreat
    to remove the daggers the music caused you.
    I cared for you, I take no interest.

    It sways still, in my searching mind.
    My heart is magnetized. Kill this please.

    Caught in a vacuum my soul is,
    eyes in lost gaze, escaped by life itself
    but still breathing. Does this flesh belong here?
    Scavengers come! Stout yourselves with my predator.

    Hypnotized, petrified, I look up.
    The contaminated rheum becomes king. Horror!
    Perhaps it's the disarming blood of amour
    that swims out as white wine in this dark twin-goblet.

    Deranged, the blood exits for no reason.
    The diseases of the victim, I hope it heals.

    Oh, the wine dries out, I sharpen my senses.
    The melody stops, iris eats the antagonist.
    but it does swallow not, to my chagrin.
    the orb only sleeps and will always return.

    But it decomposes, but it undergoes
    metamorphosis. What beautiful show!
    Yet the curtain of black and the actor appear
    Darling, dead darling, yes. The pupil shall dance again.