There is a tear in the eye of the dragon, you see the reflexion of yourself.
This drop is a cluster-full net, waving fabrics and pearls from far-away.
The divine reptile has a message, it bears a reminiscence.
You witness the altar collapsing under his fire spit.
And still honour the decorum.
It burns and self-destroys to finally diffuse its hidden smell.
Tears will extinguish the fire, so much it creates a puddle of wax.
Put your finger in it, let it dry and see this special effect skin peeling off.
Wear the harness, go on your knees and wipe the perfume.
Wring it out in the holly bucket.
Drink it, throw up the snot of your childhood.
Then dive, dive deep under the surface of the lake to rinse off the dregs.
And gaze at the infant body, the sexless character you became.