You misunderstand it.
The girl you never saw is burried deep within the stale debris
made up of sickle cells and wasted embryos
discarded makeup cases
porcelain dolls.

How much was really enough?
She died for you,
the epitome of altruism layed across your lap
and closed her eyes.

It was over all too soon.

You forgot about the dead-eyed body
that walked it's greying skin across the iron pathway
and settled itself on your barbed wire sheets.

It's just too precious
this used and broken babydoll image.
You regard it with unrestrained disgust--
but you do restrain your wonder.
Afraid of what she'll make you
scared of your own skin
and terrified at the taste of blood.

This cloud of dust you pull around the bulk of your emotions
sifts, settles and crunches hard at your pristine feet
rooting you to a dark ocean floor
where the pressure is squeezing the blood from your hands.
She'll walk to you in tattered slippers
kiss your cheek with dirty lips
and you'll forever understand
just what it feels to fake the essense of you're being on this Earth.

The time drips like sweat from your useless body
containing the shrivelled mass of nervecell miscellaneous.
You'll watch the arms on electric battery-only items
and let them dictate the writing you scrawl
in floodied inkdots under your skull...
and all the while
the culprit forges paths along your laugh lines
and turns your vibrant skin to leather.

Touch your cheek.
That beautiful girl is there
inside your tissues.

01/21/2004

Posted on 01/22/2004
Copyright © 2024 Trisha De Gracia