Parasitic Queen of My MindMature

Healing rivers shot through with ghostly rays of dead sunlight

Like the scars mapping dream-catchers across my arms, the

Phantom remains of a pulsing latticework, as molten crimson as

The feelings that once rested in the hollows of my heart.


Spirits of chaos, they've had their wings clipped back to the blue-white

Branches of bone; my broken nails and raw skin ache for you, the

Crucifixion scars still hurt on winter days, empty in their immortal pain,

A morphine haze, a ritual for the queen of my mind.


Redeem me, burn me at the stake of your amber eyes, like an owl,

A shadow in the night, a haunting cry from diamond skies full of

Darkness and soft rains; another attempt to cleanse myself of all

Hurting and disgrace, I enjoyed my fall from grace.


When the morning sets the sky alight, I'll bleed on my cross of

Broken feelings, drugged nerve-endings; cry prettily for the

Professional mourners hunting new talent; bury me in the delusion

That you are still the queen of my mind; the pretty, parasitic piece of me

Which will not die.



The End

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