gloss and gold.Her façade is breaking.Every day, she seems a little less strong.Brittle but beautiful?Only on a really good day.Fault lines; whose fault? Her own?Criss-cross (applesauce…) her fissured hips.Right. Right. Write. Wrong.Stars, painted; in her eyes, on her skin.Paint, blood, it's all the same.At-home-tattoos; razor blades and…Black markers.Irony burns, don't it?Curling like irons, too.When will she learn?It's time to talk her talk.To walk her walk, to work her work."Will Work For Love."It always happens this way… come October.
Glorified Apple Pie...Acetone eyes glimmer like tar on a hot summer's day;Chilling, like antifreeze – drink it down.Don't try to hide beneath soft moccasins.There's more than one way to skin a Cat. Please, oh please, no. Too much. Too soon. Too fast!I can't ease your suffering, not the way you desire.The way you devour, it's so unlike me.Terror-wrists, terror-eyes.Pledges of diamond rings and ruby hearts.Pardon me; I must be miss-taken. Miss-hapen.Miss-ion? Yes, Regis. Maybe, Jesus…Sees me. Seize me. Cease her. Siege against the world.Only thirty-eight minutes 'til de(b)t-o-nationWaging wars like toy castles. Cheap, pointless; street-corner harlots?Prostituting, promising, promoting? Only they may know.Only secrets there; unravelling like poorly fashioned scar-ves.Dollar store downbeats? Beat down.Back off, brother.Alien(ate) my