Wicked

Burial grounds unearth the ring
On your finger:
A coffin set in red
Crystal rock

As rich in color as
Your bloody knuckles
Before they scarred over.
Walls hurt.

Vibrant as the faux
Eyeliner you’ve painted
On, designed like
Ozymandias still stood tall.

Fastiduous and full of ardor
Like a bog witch
Performing a ritual
Deep in the forest.

Be a shaman to me, resurrect
Whatever it may be
That plagues your mind
And let me see.

I want to be a part of
Your world. Whatever swamps
I must wade through,
...