Wednesday, September 12, 2012

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.

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