The halo shines iridescent
Above my head
Once gleaming purple
Once pink
Then silver
Through the translucent green
I can see
How it incarcerates me
My skin of porcelain
Is wrapped in silk
Pastel
Pink, ironed
it mustn’t have a crease
I twirl gently,
Gracefully,
Round the pole
Past the
Cumulus
Neon
Lights reflecting
Off my manicured nails
They scream privilege.
Escapril – writing everyday in April. It is probably fictional, unedited, raw feelings. Perhaps you can feel them with me.