They cut up her face
  to spite who knows

She cut off some weight
      despite her bones

She’s starved for grace
    like a hungry ghost

Is it passion?
Is it addiction?

The way she suffers
so stranger than fiction

She’s waning away
    just like the moon

It’s just the way
    the darkness consumes

As they edit away
    her absolute heart of the poem

Cut, copy paste
they stretched the truth
across her face

Now the disenchanted runway
calls her name

“Depersonalization"

Baby girl,
you were born
with it

Now you’ve
just been
manipulated!

The transformation
was a success
but you’re still sentient!

Screaming
"Being like everybody
is like being nobody
and this body
is no body
it’s a plastic prison"

built on a template
of all your false expectations

We need to
    cut off the face
    of the status quo

There’s nothing divine
    left to her ratio

Knock the Goddess
    from the pedestal

I love the stark beaches on your coast, soft sands turned grey in a storm. Clouds mottle sand the same color as skin. Waves soar and fall, opposite, dunes rise and plummet. A calm imitation of a wild sea.

Sitting in a café waiting t̶o̶ ̶d̶(̶l̶i̶v̶e̶)̶i̶e̶. There is dogfood art on the wall and I’ve got nice coffee from a barista [Barbie] with tattoos. Pull in one [a(?)] direction already. Like a kite in a park with no kid attached. Gone, going, past. Compliments are t̶o̶o̶ ̶c̶h̶e̶a̶p̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶f̶e̶e̶l̶  valuable these days. “All the girls drink for free.”

“****. ****. FuckFuckFuck.”

*******. Drink your sweet, dark-cherry stained lips. Dead eyes masked in mascara masquerading as more. “Bought with bourbon and goes down easy.”

Commodify, objectify, consume. Transactional romance drives a BMW.