When was it, the facade of mascara you wear everyday like a new dawn, became your actual face?
Do you remember?
When was it, the pitch dark kohl you outline your lost eyes in, somewhat like an eclipse, fell weak to the cancerous dark circles?
Do you remember?
When was it, the love you've always had for blue, as if a mermaid afloat the oceans, could no more live up to the blunt bruises?
Do you remember?
When was it, the tooth fairies you'd desperately hoped to be true, as if living off Aesop, failed at being, to the flesh-digging fangs?
Do you remember?
When was it, the cliche fragrance of ruby red roses you'd pined for every adolescent afternoon, drowned in the stinking inebriated breath of bloody hands crawling inexplicable lengths and depths of your measured skin?
Do you remember?
You'd say, every time he wore a new face, a different one from the last one, to the piling heap of rotting flesh, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
You'd say, every time he was inside you, living an entire existence elsewhere, reciting letters to an address unfamiliar, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
You'd say, every time his lightning struck thunders down your wuthering spine and stormed entrails trembling from the rains of yesterday, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
You'd say, every time his crippled crumbled vanity pinned the limbs of the questions living in your wrinkles, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
You'd say, every time his intoxicated eyes and rogue desires crossed paths with your humble sobriety, ripping it as if cut open, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
Who we thought were men, carry corpses of women like they were meat, as their brittle penises play hide and seek.
Who we thought were men, pluck bones of men like they were toothpicks, as the lynched vaginas and slaughtered breasts choke.
Do the dead smile though?
Do you remember?
When was it, the pitch dark kohl you outline your lost eyes in, somewhat like an eclipse, fell weak to the cancerous dark circles?
Do you remember?
When was it, the love you've always had for blue, as if a mermaid afloat the oceans, could no more live up to the blunt bruises?
Do you remember?
When was it, the tooth fairies you'd desperately hoped to be true, as if living off Aesop, failed at being, to the flesh-digging fangs?
Do you remember?
When was it, the cliche fragrance of ruby red roses you'd pined for every adolescent afternoon, drowned in the stinking inebriated breath of bloody hands crawling inexplicable lengths and depths of your measured skin?
Do you remember?
You'd say, every time he wore a new face, a different one from the last one, to the piling heap of rotting flesh, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
You'd say, every time he was inside you, living an entire existence elsewhere, reciting letters to an address unfamiliar, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
You'd say, every time his lightning struck thunders down your wuthering spine and stormed entrails trembling from the rains of yesterday, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
You'd say, every time his crippled crumbled vanity pinned the limbs of the questions living in your wrinkles, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
You'd say, every time his intoxicated eyes and rogue desires crossed paths with your humble sobriety, ripping it as if cut open, you died a day more.
And I'd smile, a shade paler than the last one.
Who we thought were men, carry corpses of women like they were meat, as their brittle penises play hide and seek.
Who we thought were men, pluck bones of men like they were toothpicks, as the lynched vaginas and slaughtered breasts choke.
Do the dead smile though?
