Notes On Her Obsession
plastic. you look like you should be bled
of the oil spilling off your tongue in great stains.
slick in your smiled photographs and cruelly captivating in your two-dimensional ugliness.
a tar surrounds you, whose sparkling teeth
catch flies in the cracks.
vultures are scavenging birds, feeding mostly on the carcasses of dead animals.
like an owl in a glass case.
like a wren behind a window.
like a boy in a room far away from home.
the hard letters of your name pain me,
extract a vengeance out from my bones.
for all i know your clones exist, a great kettle circling my thoughts.
there are few can smell the dead from such great heights.
in your inkiness the sin of vanity, of apathy, sin of circling.
out of myth a fascination, a code written into my body.
i want the ticking of your brains explained,
all the deeds of your heart laid out plainly.
to live as you once, in all your criminality.
i want to shine a spotlight into the black of your silhouette.
to see your ruin, in great puddles.
vultures seldom attack healthy animals, but may kill the wounded or sick.
you sit sleepy, or half torpid, perverse in your open gluttony on those who may seem weaker than you.
like an wren in a room far away from home.
like an owl behind a window.
like a boy in a glass case.
[© 2010 Sophia Nelson]
