HALLUCINATRIX

Chased me down a half-whip
pox of wanting you

The negative edge
I feel when you pluck out
the joy that only you and I

But understand I was glass
cat-eyes, the gloss of my bare nod

— Your cheap face
some $20 of snake material
protruding like a testicle

Go pale and bend under, someday
you’ll see — I am

The blank slate
upon which every man

—

By M. Elizabeth Scott–from Her Gloves Against the Mirror–published by blush lit

Buy it here

—

Based in Glasgow.