she flashes a crippled caterpillar smile
you can actually see the muscles
screaming (begging writhing pleading)
as they are crucified
into an upside down frown
the phobia of circus clowns

she had forgotten
(the oily velvet flesh feeling)
she has tattooed tears
hiding behind a jail cell of lower lid eyelashes
if you dropped a bucket into the well of her soul
you wouldn't hear the splash of mingling emotions
only the jaded sound of an empty well bottom, scorched dry by the thousand suns of an imitation coffin bleeding white washed cancer
i'm having an affair with imitation sunlight, she says
he isn't as romantic as the sun
but i dont have time to wait for his seduction
Imitation Sunlight f----- me on the first date
his cum stains my skin gold

she had forgotten
(the plush innocence of flesh)
she has tattooed tears
beneath her lemon drop eyes
because she forgot how to cry

they kiss her femme fatal fashioned cheeks
blushing pink raw meat devirginized not by the lips of a loyal lover but by the sharp sultry tounge of a surgical knife
at night she peels off her face and drapes it on a hanger in which she stuffs in her closet of insecurity, bulging with painted expressions of a hundred emotions
on friday she likes to slap on a face with busty lips and eyes cradled in sillohette where as on a merciless monday she prefers a face with a subtle furrowed brow and a puckered rosebud mouth
a scar tissue grin shyly gleams on her stomach
she says annorexia is taboo
bulemia takes too much effort
she said slice me open like rotten fruit
and cut out all the bad parts
and then I
will be perfect

why didn't anybody tell her even perfection isn't perfect?