The clothes on a perfectly sculpted mannequin
do not accentuate the garment's beauty.
Rather, it hollows it, makes it unwholesome
and outlines all the more clearly how empty it truly is
to the point where one forgets what one is looking at.
Like a vague pronoun.

The human mind, the decent soul, cannot and should
not be subjected to such a ******* and feels inhumanly
compelled to destroy the effect.

And that is why mannequins are so good for sales.

I observe the ancient wonder
An old music box,
Whose shell is enclosed in aged mahogany.

The innards contain dissimilar gears and cogs
***** by rust laid out by Father Time,
In his endless cycle.

The scarred ballerina
Her painted flesh corroding to a dust.
I witness the aging ballerina
In her endless German Waltz.

Yet the music, still pure,
As if the music fixes this artifact
As if it was her.

Rather, a dull smile of yours
Painted around fabrics
Made from papers that burn to the touch, the eyes.

Day by day
My room; cloister of desire
Stagnant as it is
Holds many faces, each resembling you
So where are you?

Ah, these fake lips
I wish to touch them; remain unbitten
You lie in waiting, behind miles of glass and miles of rain.

So holding a frame
Uneven with my desires; tame body
Leaving it behind. Turning. Closing my door.
The real thing lingers nearby.

All I can think to do at the table
is stare at the bright orange Reeses'
cups package and the Payday
bars illuminated by light
from the vending machine. I sit,
wondering whether they drip

inside their package. My arm drips
to my pocket. I bring money to the table,
ready to decide just what is it
that I want to buy. I prefer Reeses',
but it's been long since I've tasted the light
caramel and crunchy peanut of a Payday.

This decision would be easy if I had a Payday.
As it stands, my money is dripping.
If it's any indication of how light
my wallet is, I can barely bring one back to the table.
It's a tough decision. I've been craving Reeses'
for weeks. I haven't decided, but this is it.

I walk up to the machine. I'm done sitting,
It's a question of this or that. Payday?
Heads. I reach in my pocket. Tails, Reeses'.
I manage the quarter out. How could I know I'd rip
a dollar in the process? Back to the table
for damage control. The tear was light

enough not to be serious, just a slight
rip. It's easier to flip a coin while you sit
anyway. I toss it in the air and it lands on the table.
Heads. I smiled, my decision was made. Payday.
I walk back to the machine and drop
coins in, not making eye contact with the Reeses'.

As I get up, I feel terrible. I've betrayed the Reeses'
cups I've enjoyed since I was a child, the delight
that kept me going when there wasn't a drip
of tea left. I think I'll go downstairs to sit
and eat my new sugary master, the Payday.
This time I pass by, not return to, the table.

I look back, past the table, at the orange Reeses'
packages, then glance at my Payday. It's light,
I won't have to sit to eat it. Ashamed, my eyes drip.

When the drink takes hold I am pushed beyond the limits of my consciousness
It is a place where there doesn't seem to be a bottom
A place where all is dark and nothing grows
As I fall I there is nothing to slow my decent
Falling fast, but at the same time standing perfectly still

Every-time is the last
Right after this one which will erase the boundaries that keep my mind out of the deepest of dark places.

They wear white shirts that lope into the village square
And hate the dust that settles there.

Their children leave the schoolhouse with schoolmaster's nod
To see the traveling works of odd.

With cries and drums and fire held in open hands,
Four insects bless the godless lands.

Yes, every song on every face is writ on steel,
Cemented by the thunder's peal.

Toward the night the fires burned away the spell,
Yet still the truth did four men tell.

“a puddle!” I thought while
Walking
next to the water.
Only
when I focused
With
my eyes did I think to
Myself
“oh wait, that’s a pond”

every day following,
I
walked by this pond and
Realized
one day that  
The Reason
i am always late
For
class (and for
Life
in general)
Is
stopping to see the
Beauty
everyone else passes by.