A trance is
supposed to feel
like something special
Abandon the miracle
Which colors suit your
Coffin the flowers in the
pocket of your date to Sadie
Hawkins, the freckles
On her thumbs
I wore the story of a
Mythical creature until I realized
A fantasy is unattainable
I killed myself to trade flesh with the devil
To don black diamonds in the eyes
Of twin serpents, a spine’s
Forked tongue spits incantations from
a young nun’s feverish lips.
There exists, in some version of some hell,
A water moccasin with my dead eyes
Young Witch, are you sure you are in a trance,
Or are you just running from your aching body?
Lucid Dreams 