there are cracks in my facade where the real me pours out like the antithesis of light(the dark spatter of gray matter braised and battered by aloofly affluent chefs fool tartar with lemongrass clippings on a bed marinated in the finest longing)beams of razored emptiness in the porcelain mask painted smile flaking to the floor(the still beating heart sizzles on the coals of a brazier with greasy flames licking the heartflap, a spinal fluid reduction suspended in balsamic tears)finalmente una fine, alla miseria