17.6.12

circulus vitiosus

dear diary,
the glass cage - the tip of an iceberg,
an embarrassment of riches.

every morning, waking up in a crystal palace
every night, drifting to sleep protected by its diamond fa├žade
bristling with sweet sweet flowers (patchouli, crystanthemum, peonies)
an autumn waterfall of petals, reluctantly balancing on the edge of the mantelpiece
an urn of memories cheaply bought, ashes of an old woman's luxurious suffocation
methane crystals, rotting teeth and a ball room brimming with vacant, hollow faces
heavy raindrops on porcelain skin.

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