Grotesque is a word reserved for Halloween, Asparagus, and my bathroom mirror.
A mirror that has never lied although there were times I asked it to.
The word is as descriptive as any in the English language
And it seems that it is synonymous with lonely and single.

While love is said not to ascribe to aesthetics.
I know for a fact, through experience, that attraction most definitely does.
So while love can exist for one that could be considered grotesque.
By all weights and measures, how is a person supposed to be loved,
When the other can't get the vomitous taste out of their mouth after looking at them?

Dark and dreary I know, but I've never been one to buy in.
To purchase the notion that one could look past, into what one is, before seeing how one looks.
Dismal outlook on the horizon I know but sometimes reality's worth crashing into.
Maybe I'm wrong, God I hope so.
Because if I'm wrong there's a future.
If I'm not
. . .