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.