and she dances on the sand.

by suicidallyanonymous

She scrapes bare
the ugly artists, exposing
tunnels of velvet veins.
Stripping meaning from
whimsical things
to breathe new scars
and give disease an acronym.

She is a storybook cracked,
split open like 2pm beers and
orgasmic decadence.

A woman with granite hands
and steel molars,
tightening her barbs

[I am extraordinarily
killed in public]

to asphyxiate my poetry.


One Comment to “and she dances on the sand.”

  1. “She is a storybook cracked.” is just plain brilliance!!! I am so captivated and pleased with this poet. BRAVO and CHEERS!!!

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