Anatomy of the Delightfully Disturbed

The Floating Head

There it sat and rested, a dead head inside a jar. 

So sweet and so bested, to the envy of all afar. 

I knew not her name or the buyer you see, 

just some money under the table and in the mail I did greet, 

the ode to my perfection, my collection was now complete.

Quite a bunch of oddities I beheld in my home. 

It stacked so high and so wide, I barely had room to roam. 

But oh, did I hide, these many treasures of least desire

to grace my halls and hang from my walls on wires of crooked nails and failing spires. 

Should one dare to enter, I dare not think thoughts, 

of what they might say or react to my horrid lots. 

Would they become deplore and run fleeting out the door, 

never to hear from them again, never ever more? 

Well, forget them, those wasted friends, so shallow and filled with strife, 

to not understand or even pretend the grand illusion that is my life.

Now I have me a friend, one who will always contend, 

and listen to me when I speak, be so humble and so meek. 

This head, this floating head, 

in some liquid long since bled. 

A welcome addition to my ambition, 

this head, this floating head.

Carefully I carried it beyond the thresholds of my many rooms. 

To find the perfect place for it amongst the clutter, the utter volume of my gloom. 

Then finally I find, no place better in mind, 

than on the shelf across from my bed, 

so sit the jar, so sit the head.

In yellow light it bathed a radiant dome of clear glass, 

underwent a tantalizing transformation as it danced on top the bodiless lass. 

The hair a speckled blonde, the cheeks a pickled peach, 

seemed to respond, to correspond with each syllable of my speech.

"You're beautiful," I whispered. My voice excited and low. 

I wanted to kiss her and let her know, 

that I would love her and treasure her so, till death do I part, till death do I go. 

But alas, she was just a floating head, no life in her closed eyes, 

just a fair and familiar maiden, who's face I'd come to idealize. 

I admit it seemed a tad bit strange as I stared into the jar, 

this warped face felt almost recognizable and extremely bizarre.

In some dankly dark elegance I discovered a faint smile. 

My face had not seen such a trick in a long long while. 

I pressed my lips to the jar and planted a little kiss.