This is supposed to be confusing
---
The poison has not slipped through your lips but the licorice is in my stomach. My mind is withering, my color faded. The space becomes a dark carousel, horse between my legs. I want to get off this ride. Your space is only candy shop with no one behind the counter. I do not know the time, clocks neither tick or tell. Salt stains the cotton that consumes me- plaster weighs down on my chest and scrapes the flesh my warm bones are wrapped in. The carousel goes around and around and suddenly I see the stars, then promptly the pavement. Embers seer my skin and my world turns off. To an outside eye your hands are gentle, taking me off the cold sidewalk- However I am more afraid and awoken by your palms than of my own burning flesh. I take apart my body, I remove my insides. I do not eat licorice, I do not eat anything, and I burn your clothing.
