THE
DREAM EXHIBIT
Stephanie
Smith
In this stark landscape of poetry and flesh
I sleep in hopes to dream
Love lies bleeding on a teal, tobacco-stained
rug
with whispers of the Devil's song
purging from my lips
From the depths of a certain darkness
the succubus slips on a mortal's skin
and spins around the room
She yields no earthly origin
Still, she is brimstone and myrrh—
the unassuming purr of Armageddon
And I am indebted to her gaze
How I wish the night were an endless stream of
gold
of which to gift such flawless beauty
In return she'd give me eternity to hold her
hand,
all the power to murder the world
I do not hesitate. I cannot decline
Together we float down blood-soaked streets,
drunk on moonshine and yearning—
the sweet, fatal kiss I crave
before she leads me to my grave
