The Magic and the Mystic Intertwine

Talking barbies
took the bait,
makeup oozing
from drowned pores,
bones and toxins
were all that remained
of the screaming soul
that just wanted
to be “pretty”
in a world where
plastic dolls
are lifted up
as idols,
poisonous mythos
of beauty,
funneled through
our bleeding ears,
taunting us in our sleep,
beating us down
to the asphalt,
chemicals and self-loathing.

Could I waltz
you away through time?
Kicking the empty glasses
and rusty newspapers aside,
tumbling down sultry staircases,
we dance
through the gaping eye
in the candle flame.
We may falter,
for a moment,
swaying too swiftly
in the grass
that softly licks
our ankles
with the dew
from the morning,
my tongue tasting
the energy
passing back and forth
between us
with an audible sigh
from the outdoor furniture. 

You and I
crashed together
like lightning striking earth,
as it zips and splits
through the sky,
thrusts himself deep
into her holy ground,
she moans low and rough,
responds with
shaking and resonating pulses,
her voice vibrating
the air like a fury,
the Magic and the Mystic
growling and grinding
into each other
so that the dawn
could brings us
to wake and rise
maybe one more day,
in the heat of the dawn
and death roaring,
slicing space
like a switchblade
cutting tinsel. 

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