Deleted Scenes

Haircuts break the scene, Love and dreams, striving for perfection upon make-up colored mirrors. Peeling reflections bitten tears written on crimson wrists, dressed to impress the sentence hidden within grim skin. Numb noses pose for pictures, reciting scriptures over rose covered blisters, the distraction of fashion covering synthetic plastic, the practice of acting with an intricate dysfunctional actress and her punctual sadness, her depression pressed inside madness. Tight glamour pants match melted belts distracted by overly obsessive grammar, constricting this hammer that nails truth to brightness. Eye shadow that shadows the moon, eyeliner that emphasizes the size of the tomb, lipstick that wishes to smear onto soon to be mansions with diamond chandaliers; The foundations drowns wrinkles around dark circles that magically disappear, vanished blush crushed against the cheek. Please speak louder I cant hear you next to the stained blood dance floor with fleeting and confined arms and legs that swing to screaming sounds grounded by anger and pain. Pain and acceptance, I will accept your confession to conform.

Because it reminds me that not conforming, is conforming to non-conformist