serene presentation, but I know you too well.
Black-magic diva, clowns fumble;
the scars will glitter along Alice's hell.
Lost your mind, have you, drinking lust,
a shot to the brain with obsessive relapse?
Childish chimera on borderline hope;
part skull tattoo, part shy lemonade glass.
On whose throne do you twirl, poised lie?
Admit dependence on Mother Lily's crown.
Linked by graphene umbilical cord,
soft lashes stretch high, but tonight you will drown.
The froth on twelve orders of botulinum
stacks, crisp needles choking one hay-thread.
Heart-pulse, ribbons tear, blood rain shrieks
like tongueless infant thrown in shadow's bed.
Petals gashed and truth unveiled, the Lotus blooms dead.
