Look Closely
Submerged in his fanciful palette of
feigned perfection his fetid smile
suffused through the cold laps of the
sun. A lantern of ruffled acquiescence,
a maquillage of stiff gaze of giggles.
The bowels of his heart soaked in
muddy threads of rejection, forever
lost in the pillows of bruised winds.
Alone in the oysters of sorrow,
blemishes orchestrate in the valley
of his fermented blood.
His scars, musty as a tainted
weaponized creamy spaghetti.
His thoughts enveloped in moulds of
decayed grapes.
Tears threw in the tunes of stale
rhythm. Where have his
flavours gone? They have
sailed in the crunchiness of a hybrid
tree. His textures crumbled in the
fangs of misery, buried in the tomb
of melancholic barks.
Oh, I watch him ride in
the incessant anguish
of his recurring sail as
it echoes through the
landscape of his drained soul.
Bereft of every genuine chuckle,
his sweats a pungent of titan arum.
Look, look and you'll see his
desperate eyes snare
beetles of discombobulation.
A delve in his skin puked rashes of
anxiety. Each mark a peddle to the
oasis of disaster.
Each pattern a kiss to depression as
mercy killing.
In a search for fingers at the expense of
his toes, he got penitence in plethora.
In scrutiny of the shallow ballet
he swirls in, you'll see a mask
too stuck to pull out.
And in that dance,
they are all masked with same
lethal mosaic.
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