“On the Borderline”

Her silver tongue weaves,
filling the air with golden gossamers, clouding the mind
with mists of glittering unreason.

Her glowing glossolalia explains the inexplicable, defends the indefensible, and justifies the vast injustice.

Before her words, the miasma
of fecund decay shifts,
begins to resemble the aroma
of lavender and roses.

Venom like, the smooth caress of silky snake oil conceals the cut of serrated steel.

Hope and reason succumb
to resignation and despair.
Luminous joy drowns struggling
in a sea of gilded sludge.

As the thick dark shroud envelops all she pauses, an instant, to draw breath, and in that moment her spell shatters!

Plug your ears, Ulysses!
You will have no second chance.

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