Fuchsia dreams of white-light rooms,
Repeating rhythms in coral suspension,
Cold nights framed in crystal borders,
Nightly bodies burst in ruby drops,
While princesses dance with shotguns,
Staccato steps and smoky smiles,
Screaming lurid secrets,
Spilling from dreamer’s lips,
At the moment we awake.
Over and over again I’ll die,
Until one day things could be
Different.
Discarded Recollections 