Untitled

By Elvira

He                    wears              a pretty
Face
Liquored          up
Sexed               up
Drugged          up
Anything                                  to stop the
Pain of Living,
as Janus, mutilated Face:
what is Real

Look around.                                       Faces that smile
Mona Lisa,
frowning at the Scream
Madonna,                                rendered Beauty
of the Times —
not “Santa Muerte”:
Death staring
in the Eye
Blind    we       Are      to
Radiant Souls,
for       Our      Eyes                 travel to
Perfection.
And,

We greet Evil
with Open Arms —
if the Mask is of
Venus
and not a Gargoyle,
Our Eyes Blink at
the Burnt Faces,
Searching not the
Soul

So,                               Loneliness the
sentence          of the Deformed —
a Gibbet
that Breeds
Self Death
or
Murder

March 2015

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