Obsession
by Camilla Rooney
She smells like sweet incense,
Her cloying stuffy scent.
It lingers in every room she goes in,
Like a mist
She’s a hypnotist.
She wears a silky crimson gown,
As soft as her hair,
His breath.
The woven robe of nylon glows,
With static
Her voice so monotone, words of bitter longing,
Yet it fills your mind
Infests your brain.
One honeysuckle breath later,
You’re hooked, jacked up
Her needles in your veins.
Your filaments stand on end.
On your curving spine, she’ll find,
The spot for your epidural.















Comments
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like a bed of roses theres a dozen reason in this gun
--
come leaders, come you men of great
let us hear you pontificate
your many virtues laid to waste
and we aren't listening
what do you have for us today
throw us a bone but save the plate
on why we waited till so late
was there no oil to excavate
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