Vision of Psychological Apocalypse

And there she was

A rough scab on a smooth perfect knee

With a chalky cigarette between bony fingers

Chipped red painted nails

Matching crimson accenting glossy white walls

She knew she was dreaming

Because of the bloody sun in the middle of the room

Chapped lips crack with scarlet, staining teeth

Surgical gloves reaching out from her beating heart

Held in by pale marked skin

Needles pricking gums, calling upon beads of ruby

Incisors and canines fall out one by one

Heavy tongue tastes gory wine

Indifference and apathy sistering one another

Stitches hold right-handed fingers in permanent crosses

Though an opal ring falls through

The shattering crystal lights the room ablaze

Intangible flames lick the ceiling as it rises and the floor sinks

An ever-expanding room flashing over and over in endless continuity

Like a repeating reel of film catching on fire

And then she was gone