Inside the  Music.

Behind that vermilion veil

inside a stravinsky 's concert

she lives,

She had never been described

well enough,

other than  a crescent smile

she had never been discovered.

She kills

when she laughs

the tremors in her voice whimpers

like an antique violin,

Her barbaric eyes glisten.

On her fertile pastures

on her  tender rocks

inside her secret magnolia caves

Shamanic drums beat with rhythm

all nightlong.

late at night she  holds me close

presses her lips on mine  

She sobs

and she stabs me then,

leaves me half dead.

Her eyes will return

free again.

Inside the music.