Monday, May 18, 2026

Scorched Chrysanthemum

Don't misconstrue me 
Under the crescent moon
Clinging desperately to Venus' orbit
You contrived an elaborate scheme 
That has no super glue binding it together
Without a fair warning 
You burned a fire bright
Beyond repair
And there he stands
Within the burnt out pyre 
Of apartment 119
You stole his identity 
It's right there on the app
While he slept peacefully 
So don't give me 
You're murderous creeper vibe
It doesn't phase me one bit
Your face has been catalogued,
Identified, and scrutinized
And your savoir faire is destroyed 
So, turn yourself in
Bleeding karma is rampantly coming
With a F5 tornado of guilt
Throwing you on a medieval rack
And stretching those arms
And legs until bones have dislocated 
And broken bit by bit
How much time 
Do you really think you have?
He's standing right beside you
Eyes ablaze and anger brewing 
Hurry now, 
Before the dimensional shifts
Your consequences could accumulate 
While Nero lounges comfortably
On his sacrificial thrown
Watching you burn with glee
In the gladiators coliseum
of death of glees ©

Karen L. Fleming, 5.18.26





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