Mystery girl in the dream chair
by Johnny Crimson
Feed the fire with skin,
a Venutian twilight we seldom bleed through.
Select the princess with the most to lose.
Cover the candles in electric wax,
a metallic pungent odor arises and is quickly ignored.
We'd soon rather favor our urges than care for hygenically sound pretenses.
Dilute the blue Mercury with fairy dusted tear-drops
that drip from high-goddess thighs and valleys,
in the yawning twilight of daydream escapes.
Cover the fence with painted tasks,
hash marks to represent the hours,
little ticks that mean more than phonebooks and dusty water cups on my nightstand.
Grease the shape of luster
that sparkles from pristine virginity
and screams for the most brave to beach it's shores.
It's some miracle the boss let us off the same week.
It's too bad you'll spend it with someone else.