I Long for my Poison

Garnish my soul. Awaken my sensibilities; for I’m acidic with 
Tears: I long for my poison. Thus awash my soul in glory; for
My chantress, my sulfur; and my light, the bed of my razor.
Thus the opera, a tragic tale. But emoted song, a woman’s
Dream; and vibrant prose, a woman’s passion. Thus the ember,
A flaming idol; and thus the rapture, a touch of death. But
Inmost love, a skyward fall; and such fatigue, the art of lust.
Thus the poison, my sordid justice.  

Garnish my soul. Awaken my sensibilities; for I’m acidic with
Tears: I long for my poison. Thus the future, the love of taint;
For my beloved, a fated scar. But feral love, alive with blight;
And florid pain, the lure of doves. Thus the fulcrum, akin to
Fiction. Hence the spirit, a ballad fable. But deep enlove, the
Stain of lust; and graven wounds, the ache of dreams.