Fairytale: How Spring Comes to the Land of Snow & Icicles / (Dream Map)
Fairytale: How Spring Comes to the Land of Snow & Icicles /
(Dream Map)
The body burns & smells like fake,
like ammonia & blood & guts.
Barbie leg arrows,
black & white bust sizes,
swords as houses, & you swing it all.
Say, all you want to do is fuck.
Because between it &—
a place we invent to need
even as we know not this skin.
Why else this plastic design
our bodies:
jello or scar?
I say, save the grotesque & it saves you.
I say, wish us open, cupped, surgeon knots
in the form of girly stuff:
gothic lipstick,
sedimentary mascara,
arabesque eyelashes.
Yes, a circle, a light, an allow.
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