Pixie

Young unicorns snatched from the impossible

Skies precious horns, ordinary chainsaws

I am left with horses revolting in the normalcy

Shipwrecked by a face all sweet and empty

Like a hollow candy or an ice cream smileLicked down to a cigarette I promptly extinguished

In a dead infection a desk drawer full of blurry sunflowers

Under your bare feet are only symptomatic

Of the monster I have become