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Rapture
July 16, 2022
Beware of that scarlet shroom
with the white spotted hat, you said
when I already swallowed,
blooming my head in a
tot-t-toxic reality. It hurts
to breathe, I must be waiting
for oxygen before you lay me down by
my babbling senses.
Mother, why is your face so green?
I am no longer your mayfly. My favorite
phantoms are taking me
to the turquoise sky when the world's omens break
from a huddle, liars afloat
growl at me and truths bend down,
rustling at my downfall.
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