the world grows uglier by Anthony Liccione

some people
find themselves
stuck in mirrors,
unable to escape
the fabric of ugliness,

screaming in vain
that life is empty
without them,
false flowers pass
as dream blossoms
plucked and chucked
into the gutters.

these same
had never smelled
the opening of a rose,
had no desire
to help the homeless,
stuck in the gutter
of alleyways and
ghosts. quietly
breathing in a
vicious world.
rather they
puff up the streets,
maul the shopping malls,
stab the nail
technicians,
the beauty salons
patient waiting
for others
to gawk
at the new lulu
(and wish upon
their fucking stars,
to have them in
bed)

seeking beauty
the one the world always
seems to bend over for.
they know, they know
what humankind always
wants of them,
beer commercials
where sex sells more
than alcohol,
and desperate people
are always buying
drunk in loneliness.

age ticks
a time bomb
and gravity leans
pulling down curtains
of wrinkles,
when an empty
inside
explodes full
of detest,
and the better
than thou,
turn bitter
in their beauty.

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