I saw breath in full color
Rotting scarlet stains on the lips of my Queen.
Hear them, those scavengers of trust.
Filling the corners of this bedroom with hypocritical specifics.
They are careful with their tricks, playing the game of Queens and Power in a silhouette of innocence.
They vibrate in chords, and chant tongues of evil written in vine and honey.
Cursive ink cutting across my queen's leaking bed, I can hear their hearts from this bedside.
I'm studying the the room with regret for pouring hope Into hands of painters,...