She's losing her sense of self.
Ivory carved and black speckled replacement.
Stacked neatly, soldiers lining up and down stairs...
Hallways, gathering around cornerings just to watch the launch.
Rythmic indecency, something bad is bound to happen here...
As her index finger gently pushes back the first tile.
One by one.
Falling down and meeting her bare feet.
Red varnish and a fake tan line.
And all the signs of beauty washed away by soap and whiskey and the vomit at her bedside.
She's wonderful. A smile through broken teeth.
A maze and puzzle collapsing into a black hole, immortality and nova reborn.
Screaming out, childlike.
Smashing mirrors and picture frames,
memories burning retnas and cascading hair clipped away.
Somehow hands held, in a firm grip, she's slipping down the rabbithole.
The mother, the maid, the executioner, the friend, the foe, all in tow.
Tumbled down, reading books and paintings crashing down.
Leading way to the keyhole, insanities doorway to hell.
And as the last domino sends up a dustcloud, the key falls to the ground.
Now in reach, finds it's way intrigicately placed in a firm palm grip.
Knobs turning, eyes closing.
We're all in for a sick suprise...
Oh, you just wait and see.
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