Mid-August heat, furnace blast from hell,
Burns the sugar coating off neon dreams
Exposing the bitter pill that lies beneath
Draft of Socrates
Hemlock
Belladonna
Wrapped in treasured tissue
of pretty words
Tied carefully with rampant ribbons
of prettier lies
to hide the ugly truth of the poison
that seethes and boils
beneath the surface
of the well crafted illusion.

Her hand trembles as she pours the wine
Long stemmed crystal flashes in candlelight
sending rainbows of reason into the shadows
"This is the last time, the last time.."
she mumbles to the empty room
as she carefully replaces the tissue
and reties the ribbons
so he will not know
that she looked inside...

Thunder rumbles in the distance
and she prays for the rain
to cool the smokey skies
and wash the stench of knowledge
back into the gutters of reality.

phantom...(c) WLA 05-09-2000