A Suitable Poem

[knights_say_nih]

Two dozen snail shells
Sit neatly
Across my scalp;
Perfect curls piled high.

Blush-brush splashes of rash
Decorates the
Abraded
And stinging cheek bones.

Skin stained charcoal
Eyes water,
Fingers slip
And dropped powder decorates the floor.

Pass the mirror
And absentmindedly touch
Dark circles?
Or just the eyeliner running?

Skin begins
To break out with
Spots.
Spots. God bless foundation-induced acne.

Sit down gingerly,
Back aches
And complains
From the necessary picture-perfect posture.

Toes pinched
By too tight shoes
And ankles sore
From too high heels.

Hair, now dry-
A frizzled thundercloud
With static lightening
That even olive-oil can’t condition away.

The moment the spotlight hits
Every bit of it is beautiful---
Especially
me.

Ecstatic, orgasmic.
I am theatre’s bitch,
She is my art
I suffer for her.