Melting Point

Leave me standing
at the alter,
white dress phantom,
holding a picket sign
and a screwdriver.

The "normal" scent
of a concrete world
makes me nauseous.
Drape me instead,
a body caressed
in a dewed forest
who's breathing gently.

Sanity is the silent venom.
Raise our poisoned tongues
to the angel.
Act out chaos,
when the world twists and tumbles
with a melting point of inferno.