The paraffin-colored faces stare back mockingly
It is the hue of the blood red petal
Like arsenic through twisted veins...
It is the hue of the blood red petal
Like arsenic through twisted veins...
Maggots in the chase or your self-esteem...
The rale of one’s own struggle for breath…
The smell of the peppermint chewing gum and feel of the lips are distant
But still here
Those cursed jewels strewn around hoping to turn yellow and forgotten
Remember the wild hair and the doll’s face
Well, she is no longer the Egyptian bas-relief you once possessed
You are no longer here for you know what you need
Those cursed jewels strewn around hoping to turn yellow and forgotten
Remember the wild hair and the doll’s face
Well, she is no longer the Egyptian bas-relief you once possessed
You are no longer here for you know what you need
The same rush Barney Oldfield felt while you talk of the metaphysical (Whatever that is)
All she needs is the sea and the aqueous green light leading to somewhere
Somewhere other than those photos
Those damned ghosts of the past
All she needs is the sea and the aqueous green light leading to somewhere
Somewhere other than those photos
Those damned ghosts of the past
Finally sliced with a scimitar
1 comment:
Provoking imagery and an excellent use of Warren's words. I like the narrative scope of the piece and the symbolic use of the doll who once embodied particular ideals. Awesome job. - elmeer
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