Parad Em Ise

Parad(em)ise Dangling from a stolid chandelier of empty shadows Her threadbare strings attached to vacant promises Jemima has tried every angle of escape and refuge Her make up faded and the jester’s façade burrowed Deep into macabre deluded weather worn charades She tries to gloss her lips but all she draws is blood The empty bottle of juniper spirits by her naked thigh A cannula of channelled happiness on desiccated skin She powders her limp face in the vapour of a light bulb Wired on Tungsten filament’s flushed out enlightenment Beyond reproach and one line closer to a final curtain She smells the fetid dungeon’s stench within and gags Draped in the puke’s perfume and sickly acid bilious scent She walks no further than the seedy river’s edge’s contempt Offers herself free to the highest bidder and bids farewell Just as the fairy tale fails to fall on prowling taste’s demise One lonely taker strikes her bust in one fell swoop at last Takes her dearest ink pumped skin that spelt ‘Only For You’ 06th February 2019