A snail on the rim of my ice water glass
Screams at the top of his tired lungs
I hear him shout my name
Above the crash of my tears as they
Hit the table soundlessly

He tells me that I'm cold and
Should wear a sweater
I complain of heat as I lift a piece of
Ice from his swimming pool,
Set it to my skin and watch the
Steam rise to the umbrella's underside

"The rain is coming," he warns,
But I ignore his chirps
I feel the first drop soak through
My skull, through my brain, and down my throat
The grey runs from my eyes and
Down my face
The acid tears from the sky drain
My lips of pink,
My skin of ivory,
My hair of silver and moonlight

I sit in my chair and stare at the
Snail which has gone from grey
To an abundance of brilliant colours
I flick the thing into the freezing water in my glass
As his smirk of conquest turns to
A defeated scowl
I'm thirsty
I engulf the prism of tea

I shake my head and
Chew a piece of bread
Trying to tune out
The laughter of the flowers

I grasp a nearby tulip and
Run its black petals over my hair
A yellow daisy for my lips
I smudge a poppy into my eyes
I roll around in the grass for my skin