Metacarpals Phalanges and Sesamoids - Beauty Immortal
Metacarpals Phalanges and Sesamoids - Beauty Immortal
The hands, it's all about the hands for me
Streamline with creamy silk skin so fine
The elegance, the aesthetics, the peripheral view
The long slender phalanges, so ethereal
The disquiet beauty, the flowing artistically magnificent lines
So alluring it feels as though the hands can't be real.
Knowing deep inside my blackest of hearts
That those delicious beauties
So feminine and fragile, graceful, pristine, and agile
Could very well rip you apart
Deviant, sinister, lethal weapons, they could easily end your start
They masquerade as magic - mythical and superior
Far-advanced, emotively austere perfection
Of which all else is seen as inferior.
Hands of refinement that have been pampered, oiled, and manicured
These hands have created masterpieces, they have been held
They have been loved
And have always had a comfortable home
They are a blood moon in a deathly dark sky
The want I feel for them is all-consuming, a demonic obsession looming
Intombing comes to mind
Which is actually macabrely amusing
For a crypt of the finest design is where I house all mine.
Affirmation - yes indeed you understood correctly
That is what I did say
Trust and believe - I would not have them any other way
In my sanctuary of cool, and dimly lit, embraced by all of evil
And of the most impervious kind
My meticulously chosen, surgically removed pairs of hands
Are anything but bland
Individually glass-encased, labeled, and displayed
In the most iconic of ways.
This Otherworldly renowned domicile of hands
I am proud to say - is the only one in all of the lands
A kind of designer boutique of all hands unique
And definitely not to be confused with Trick-or-Treat or feet
Of the countless sets of hands in my collection
My most treasured pair that are there
Are those of the Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost
How's that for dereliction of the Host?
Copyright ©
karen kissel
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