Traumatique

…

…

…

…

 

flashing lights
are all around
each heartbeat is lost
in a blanket of sound

 

for fifteen minutes
they presented her fame
but what good are the rest
if they know not your name

 

once a top model
prosperity fleeted
now she’s insolvent
beat up and retreated

 

slipping from view
began falling from grace
but nobody noticed
the cracks in her face

 

beauty skin deep
here today not tomorrow
yet plentiful trauma
in infinite sorrow

 

her heart may be broken
but her cranium pulses
the evil spills forth
every time she convulses

 

so much still to do
many plans to be made
ever since she accepted
the ultimate trade

 

each neuron courts madness
every synapse spews pain
so she need not ever once
feel this again

 

after so many blows
all feeling is muted
but feeling is something
to which she’s not suited

 

will be nothing to feel
as she plucks out your heart
and licks this grenade
then to tear it apart

 

deep red on her lips
which she wears as a token
to read your last rites
with not a word spoken

 

as your life ebbs away
she can no longer stay
for this has been your
fifteen minutes of fame

 

 

Truly, Really, Clearly, Sincerely,

 

Keeper of the Crimson Quill

Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2015

 

Reading by Adam Ginsberg

 

Produced by AnnThraxx

 

Music by Sageone

 

 

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