I would’ve believed you

if you only had poppies on your forehead

like Ajna

but not the red eyes

if you just had green sprouts

instead of the word-mouth

the lying mechanics

but not the red eyes

the gaze-stuck

deceives your penance

the black organic smear blurs the vision

guilt like

on your shoulders

but the eyes

the dark blossoms of the soul

belie you

 addicted, sickly yellow

a green line, just a counter you are

there’s no consciousness

under the sun that is

in the corner of your mind

feeding the poppies

the sweet slumber, soothing

if not for the red eyes

I would’ve believed