poison

the more i write this one to existence

the less i find appealing 

the more sunlight i spin and weave

the more he is eclipsed

to write myself to my fictive world

i would

the brighter the days there

the greyer the rain here

i close my eyes and see it clearly

i write myself in

and stop my ears

i settle in
i write myself down and high
snuggle up with the languid waste of wanting
that which i have created


pygmalion, you elegant bastard
you knew too well

the more he isn't him

the more impatient i grow

even as the tale is spinning

a web to catch me in

i brew the poison

to pour in mine own ear