I play with time like a scaredy cat. I’m allergic

I paint with memory but my paints are running dry

With no toys and no dolls and my lonely mirror gazing out of this watchtower made for a maid

I hold my pearls close and crush them into dusty powder.

Now a new tool. I cover myself in pearlescent faery dust and call myself a star in my own movie.

I wonder how this will play out.