Open your eyes to the fields of bleached orchids
unscented and caustic,
mauling the backs of your eye sockets
with an instinctive allure.
Beautiful, pounding misery.
reigning over the numbness of your overly-satisfied chest.
Unnerving… pour me another glass.
Pluck them from the wet earth.
Arrangements of poisoned memories,
inhale the most opulent and let it eat your heart
from the inside – deeper.
This oblique ardor; my blood,
my malignant cure.
Image: Self Portrait, 2016.