Radioactive Queen

These infernal steaming pools,

housed in rust encumbered riveted domes,

Constructed by prison masons posing as scribes,

Spout their plumes of water rising to eclipse skylights,

fogging up the warped cracking glass,

 

Artificial rain flowed down the iron sides,

and collects its red hues in the molten cups of silver,

Rippling through in super position wormholes,

 

I let the blacksmith mold mercury to my lips,

Reaching the deepest pores in microscopic crevices,

Casting spiraling screws and freezing to my flesh,

The smoothness of tongue over tungsten teeth,

Ripping taste buds with metallic ash of Plutonium,

 

Eyes in cobalt's bluish grip,

Laden and radiant to Luna's gaze,

 

All forgotten under the lead lined sarcophagus,

Painted and carved in ancient indecipherable scribbles,

A defacing, depriving mask fit for the sons of Ra,

 

Etched in the radioactive condensation,

The hand print windows to the outside,

Were the palms of Sekhmet

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