Relapse

I inhale your smoke deeply like the summer's dusty smiles on the harbor.
And as my teeth break on every ounce of bone beneath your torn skin,
I understand the true meaning of "Red is your color".
I enjoy every inch of whatever it is I am eating,
and soon I know, in my heart, it's your soul.
Dripping sinister like Mary's foul mouth on Sunday's mass.
The lamb on the table, next to the salt, poured into each wound.
Intricately designed in webbing of my eyes, entangled and hanging patiently..
Awaiting the death to engulf you like the sea beneath your smile.
Sun licking the tips of your fingers, begging for aloe vera and the singing of the passing leaves.
I know the little girl who stands day after day selling flowers on the highway.
She is me, at night, when I slip on my stockings and walk downtown barefoot.
Flashing cars that drive by in hopes one will stop, kidnap me, and I'll end up tomorrows trash.
Compacted into a tiny cube, stored beneath the Earth awaiting for rebirth.

Into the flower..
She sells today.
A red rose.

How beautiful.

Just keep chewing.