To the inhabitance of The Factory.
I can loose myself in your movement.
The freedom you emit is intoxicating
And the fumes of it threaten to swallow me whole.
Spinning and twirling me-
Feels like a fairyland.
Do I dare taste the drink of pixies?
Would I be yours to keep then?
Is it such a bad thing?
You grasp me with fixed eyes-
You mean to make a meal of me.
Hands motion me in and I come-
A willing follower to a mad pipers tune.
Vinyl spins and lights incapacitate me.
Your pale skin speaks of wonders-
Untold to my tan one.
Lips of red leak trails of crimson as you spin through the air.
The Heaven I work for holds a different kind of Glory then this.
A different type of Heaven.
In a place where color is stifled
Majestic shades of blacks dominate their bodies.
My white flower screams my novice.
Arms embrace.... A nymph’s dance.
A makeshift palace.
A refuge crypt.
This place does not mean to keep me
But woo me to return.
I’m released into the night
The air rapes my lungs.
I promise to return-
To a fairy’s calls.