Paris 8 · Lady K
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COSMETICS
Night is the perfect mascara
Every bump, every turn, every pothole,
Crack, fissure, splinter, snap,
Fracture, rupture, splatter, break,
Slit, slash, scratch, split, every tear.
And lipstick? A beacon. A breeze.
How someone connects to a knife.
Michael H. Brownstein
BEFORE THE MATCH
Gleaning from smoke
I want to get cursed
And not care
I want to be chosen
And refuse
I want me a smokin joe
Dear
to take me right offa
These blues
Lay
the
landing
gear
To rip me straight
out
From these
Blues these blues
they make me wanna
Curse
And misbehave
Blow my smoke in a wide
Range in some wade fountain
Or other memorial
They make me wanna
Cruise
in buiks longside
Massive transportation
With no song on
just
A joint in the past
Gearing up
Before the match so to say
One true threat
Ima write u dear smoke back in
a mirror like a spider's dusty
glass
u are a figment
A pigmentless feature
The passed on get
I liken u to a virus
With
No symptoms man
A creeper stealth I never
Knew
Stonier
In death and sleeker
Cuz u don't
Even EXIST but u keep
Many mugs
Just
At burn
From the
Boil
Certain temperatures
Confident heats
Intruders get
Swooped
Up
And away
And never again
To multiply vigorously
Or dwell unmoved
Co-lecting dust
To dustbrooms
Stripped
The walls
Allergic eyes weep
No glass returns
Entirely empty
Bree
