Perverse dreams and crooked fantasies growing rapidly and ravenously like weeds amongst green grass. A beautiful hillside field losing its attraction from every slanted tree and crumbling rock; she was stunning at first glance, but a double take would expose her cracked details.
She was beautiful until you got to know her. A body of stone with a heart of ice. Her eyes were frozen and her hands were frigid, her touch cooled zeal and ardor. She must have been a blacksmith, forging swords of silver into anchors of jade, where rust replaced pride and blood.
She slithered through her battles, on her back and knees, cracking castles at their foundations and pulling oak trees by their roots. Her tongue was platinum spilling golden half-truths and lies, she spoke skillfully, architecturally, placing pretty concepts and broken philosophies like time bombs to tall and confident structures;
She’d only smile when she conquered, leaving souls in chaos and conscience like dust. And after she’d slide back into dirt and marsh, leaving behind trails of confusion and fragmentation.