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Her intelligence had no place  In a world indifferent to the mind;  A cult for the admiration of the body And her beauty only rivaled her deceipt. She was like a spider living in a flower. Hungry. Waiting for the bees. But there was space between her sky and the faces turned toward it; Like animal tracks fossilized from prehistoric times.
Sipping generically passionate words  and sniffing sweet cocaine. She said she collected knives  “Because they’re sexual.”  A parasite living in a host’s veins. And when she cried flowers wilted at her feet. She said: “It’s always better to be  carried away with emotion  than be completely unmoved.” But when she threw her knees  In the air for me, she thought about how pretty words can’t explain  The world that she’s seen; And she kind of hates people; A virus in a water filled cell. But they’re beautiful when they sleep. She wore death’s grin above her chin; Like the center of someone else’s galaxy. And, She smells like raspberries,  but tastes like rum
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Words of Emotion
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