Aftertaste of Deception
In the
Aftertaste of
Deception,
Memory running,
Racing up my skirt
Like wind from a
Snow-blower.
Is it
Lemonade or
Wild dreaming?
Melancholy and
Bitters are running
Through the cane fields
of recollection,
Burning out the
Potential
For alluded faked
Sweets.
Excitement filled
To overflow,
With eyes that
Glittered diamonds
Around a pin point
And a poppy,
In insufficient funds.
Smoke of it all.
Reflections in
Multiples of hell.
Crushing blow of
Cranial implants
Flashing like
A neon horror film.
Addiction loses to
Recovery in the
Aftertaste of
Deception.