Opiate

I am your reservoir
I am your opiate, not quinine, but
                                      saccharine
your dream- lozenge
'Don't delude myself,' dear mirror complies

I am your white poppy
the toast to your dreams
Portal says I'm perfectly flawed
 Still climbing high, with rocky limbs,      stomping on men shadows
Paper mountain is my new lover,
        an atoms to adam kind of god
'I don't want your rib, darling, but your opiate in return ;
    to sleep in your oleander forever
poisoned by your platonic emotives instead of unguaranteed affection.

                                              The engrossment enhances my will
unto you
The Tyche in me is begging me to enfranchise these doubts.
                                                                                 and spellbind them to chances.
O' how monopoly has changed me
    though empiricism is my eleventh finger on this cliff,
Again,  atoms for you Adam, though
this time
I hold the
fetus of quintessence -
so pure the virgins repel,
     repel at me with forked tongues,
                                                  and my reflection
                   still claims to know best
      on the side of your white poppy
                                         dish, napkin unkempt though I dearest hope you don't seek to betray
like the spoons
betrayed them.