an untitled document.

the demons thrive in twilight

step one : foundation

strokes of ;
something i can not comprehend.
it sweeps across your face ;
scatters amongst your breath.
it is tyranny in its
demonic form. defined
through  poised portraits,
an empty head.
linen left drifting on
your empty bed.
your face is a canvas,
only for you to spend
too much time
for diminishing returns.

step two : concealer

you hide from
yourself in the
form of splotches of
endorsement from Kings;
concrete lining and,
smoke rings.
inhale; your lungs are
on fire.
porcelain piercing through
the silence; was
a hazy daze.
exhale; you are
a mosaic, a frame,
a juxtaposition.
you entertain. across
a constituent assembly
of your will, you will present
an image of yourself,
that will never be true.

step three : bronzer, blush, highlight

it traces your face;
winding across your complexion,
like a river over your fading gaze.
fortified with armour and
too much false
charisma; perplexion
ambiguously rears its head.
but who will bow to a lioness hunted
by a hierarchy now?
but who chances upon a grace
that manifests.
the light rays catches the flecks on your
cheek, they bounce of a
canvas dulled by paint of minerals.
but in an attempt to bring life to
your countenance;
you have suffocated yourself.
under layers that cannot hide
who you are.

step four : setting spray

the liquid trickles down
your dystopian image.
Mario Badescu? or tears
that could no longer be bottled,
escaping the crushing interchangeability
of a scornful soul.
you are blinded by lights on
the runway eating away
the fibres of your being;
strings pulled like a marionette.
beacons of false perfection,
coalition of forces,
and now the human
counterpart is dead.