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
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