The Enchanter

with unseen bloody fingers she sings a melody but with purely visual aesthetic and woos even the strictest stoic & with subtle soft petal bells hanging, now 2 years old, standing nearly 8 feet tall you may very well want to reach out and touch, stroke her texture drawing your index up the back of her slender stem, engulfed in the passion of the moment you may even draw a bell and bite down with eyes closed, tilting your head back in anticipation of euphoria, only to be disappointed (as we are so very often in our short existence), as instead of a hallucination of poignant pleasure-filled paradiso, the digitalis begins the dizziness, the irregular heartbeat & the all out bad trip that will take its toll on you sooner than later, bring you down low to the level of the forgotten as the witch strangles your gasping throat with her gloves & the dead man’s bells clang--- another one bites the grounded gilings, grime & granular grit, all spinning around your eyes flickering in a haze to the broken rhythm of those final heartbeats as the sun goes down.