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 smile
Licked 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