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A Poem by Jordan Madrid

In the light she screams ecstatic
Clutching roses to her chest
In her room she holds the dark at bay
And drags a steel comfort across her skin
Drops of blood slip her wrist
Painting long worn carpet
Dirty from traffic of dissimilar shoes
A dirty requiem brought in lies
Made pointed by hands that slide seductive
Gluttonous fingers rushing under her skirt
Ripping plaid held in tone with rapid breath
She grabs at her lonesome chest
Forgetting the world she is lost to
In the light she scream and it is ecstatic
In tone and pitch she screams
Ecstatic