i long
to slice my face
free from this
insipid skull
to fold it
carefully
into an
origami swan
a testimonial
to bleeding hearts
slapdashedly pinned
to ragged sleeves
yet another
crimson reminder
the pursuit of
beauty begins
with incomprehensible
bouts of ugliness

my soul is
a tar pit preserving
the fossilized
hopes and adorations
bubbling in a
toxicity of
roiling sorrows
and insecurities
lovingly passed
through snarled hatred

i long
to pluck these
hazel delusions
leave them
simmering with
unfulfilled desires
in a bath of
formaldehyde
flavored dissent
unable to carve
the mediocrity
from the epitaphs
graffitied deep
into the sanguinated
heartshatter strewn
in sullen anger
seeking the echo
of beauty ingrained
in universal disdain