what the fuck is beauty?
it’s only skin-deep
eyes cut into skin deep
like to dissect,
to bleed.
standing still, a figment of imagination,
taking up too much space and not enough
all the same,
a piece of glass reflecting worth,
shimmering betrayal staring
back into eyes long void of mirth.
incense,
heat,
eruption,
smoke -
ash -
crawling all over, scourging away life,
to leave just death and death and death
and nothing has ever looked more beautiful and golden;
heaven’s door beckons.
come in, come in, sweet angel
bitter burn
it’s empty inside here, and
nothing hurts.
the walls, look how gilded
with palest alabaster, decked devastatingly
delicate with molten-azure shimmers.
come, touch -
the air -
there’s nothing here.
nothingness nothingness vast hollow emptiness -
the feeling that blooms within.
back in reality, eyes devour hunger,
sweeping in the splendour of a sight so fucking marvellous
that it hurts - the good kind of hurt -
like the flash of pride accompanying chastisement
of a mouth that never seems to know how not
to water - you’re doing good, so fucking good;
pat on the back (fingers linger, loving, on what protrudes)
ghost of a smile
curve of a lip
(like the curve of a back hunched over and heaving)
euphoria entwines ecstasy
in the most splendid dance of macabre demenure;
damn if you don’t
damned if you do
parse it through - what to do, oh what the fuck to do
when life is suffering, and suffering
the only way to feel good?
fingertips flutter
over
eyes tear
into
silhouette of a bone-shell
of a girl
destined, by fate ordained,
or maybe just twisted brain
to lose everything she still has left to
loose.
