hanging like saliva from my forehead.
I am a bizarre lady with a half lit moon.
I have been a lover, a mistress, a daughter.
a tempest swirling from the eye of truth.
Slipping from the gullet of time.
An empty bed with an empty mirror.
to collect the parenthesis of wishes and words.
a violet mauve touch of my small finger.
these hours are sand of jewels.
perfume stuck to my wrist that clicks plum nectar,
like hair swinging wildly in the summer breeze,
i watch myself o this mirror,
it choked me to death.
while going to the market for my pills
shifting from the vents of miniature delights.
a cloying disease.