Illusion

A world of swimming seas, mirror images
of turquoise overlapping into an ocean of deception.
Petals folding into themselves, concealing the fruit

from rays of sin and light. Wielding an umbrella
when there's never any rain, when the ground is as arid
as the inside of her mouth. Plastic origami conflates

the stars into a single entity, the throbbing heart
of the universe. Making the clouds swirl in
marshmallows, glinting the light of a weak, soft

morning. A whirlwind upsets the calmness of the
lagoon, the mirrors and shards of blue.
But there is no whirlwind. It is prettier to see

concentric swirls dominate the monotony
of an uneventful lake, to see patterns etching
themselves into a motif of beauty. Pale, uncertain

beauty. Preventing her from seeing her true
reflection--only a warped version of youthful smiles.
The lens of our eyes is cruel; creating a new one

makes the world fold into itself, brightens the hues
to glitter and dust, reality to a snide, mocking illusion. Transforms
the truth to a sphere of lies, that sinks to the bottom,

falling, falling to the base of the lagoon, underneath
a current of fabricated beauty, an illusory
world of darkness.