We buy bags and shoes for money that could feed us for weeks
We use Botox and scalpels to fix our imperfections
We never leave the house or the room without checking our reflection
or taking a selfie
We make sure there’s never a hair out of place or a flaw to be seen
We are the lost generation
Our appearances are nothing but shells
But that’s fine
No one ever sees the empty insides
We are the lost generation
We are empty inside
But we don’t care
All we have ever wanted
All we have ever craved
is to be beautiful corpses

I would like
to have the ability to produce beauty
of a caliber so high
a drug test of it would come back positive

I would like
to produce beauty with the pain of realizing
you’ve been living in a box your entire life
and what you thought were stars are just glow-in-the-dark stickers

I would like
to write something so intelligent
you’d question your whole existence
and then some

I would like to have the ability to paint the world
as accurately as a laboratory analysis

I would like to produce beauty
But everything I produce is as painfully average as I am