I am the illusionist, the fantasist, the scientist,
The archaeologist turning your soul pieces into gold
Pulling you together but you’re not so much a riddle
As a conquest, you are the great emerald city,
My lavish Dionysian vision, and I will drip the large
Roasted honeycomb amber rings on your fingers,
Trace the silver linings from around your mouth
And make you an emperor, if only for a time
The villain, the brazen, the unfocused and out of view,
I will dance the seven veils and leave you breathless
Glorious in my impropriety, basking under the black wing of my sin
This mind is a cellar smoking with dreams that cannot break bonds
Colored wisps twisting beyond the door, poisoning the indulger
And raising the terrible fury that rests inside.
–LM
Lovely seductive poetry
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