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Beauty

Beauty flows from the flick of your wrist
As you tattoo your fear into a tribal pattern on your thigh,
Large strokes,
Drying in the heat of your wet tears,
Breathing out when you slip back into your trousers
And cradle your shaky fingers into your pockets,
Close enough to caress your new flesh.

 

Beauty flows from the flick of your wrist
As you shake another daemon’s hand,
Volcanic,
And you’re rising with the black soot
Another ash particle amongst millions
Hidden away from their unforgiving eyes
Momentarily dull in the blackening sky.

 

Beauty flows from the flick of your wrist
As you delicately reach for the ledge,
Cliffhanging

 


Legs dangling from your odyssey
Tattoos faded with lemon juice and time
Arms hoisting you up to see forgotten land
Forgotten fresh air and forgotten people.

 

Beauty flows from the flick of your wrist
the one littered in distasteful blurs
Artifact
From the molten days
That begged their unforgiving eyes for forgiveness
And turned harder when faced with opposition
In lieu of a sturdy grip.

 

Beauty flows from the flick of your wrist
As you stand on cracked foundation
Shaking
Pouring ink over the bloodstained contract
Four years old this summer,
A promise to end before beginning.
The contract began but now it is done.

 

Beauty flows from the flick of your wrist
As you drift from the flicks of pain.




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