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| Strawberry Jelly |
| I am woman. Pure liquid, like mercury. I flow, ebbing and swelling. Moving slowly, I smell of sweat and strawberries. A liquid mess. Purple and red and gold, like liquid royalty. An instrument of your desire, I lie dead at home with your disease as you sail your boat on the waters of my existence your seeds in a basket on an island in the center of a mirrored room where the child smiles and the Cheshire cries and the only images are of you. In a full metal jacket, encased in glass taste your last morning before I kick your ass. |
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