nothing touches this.
it drips of magic
and revenant textures.
layered like sheets
of laughing fog
it bends itself
over and over again
like origami jackals
preparing for a feast.

I find it to be
a bit distracting.
I have no place for it
and yet
it seeks to find me
in that place.
you know that place too.
it’s the last place you go.
you don’t need directions
and it welcomes you in
with a raven’s caw.

I wonder if they’ll visit me
when I’m rotten earth.
will the daisies that bloom
from the purplish hues
of my final work of art
catch their eyes?
will they pluck them
and in the process
take a bit of me with them?
I can only hope
that they find their way
to the hands
of a lovely young girl
so she can smile
at death.

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