she’s doing her most famous impression
passionately projecting all her feigned obsessions
some fresh flesh
unstained
on your stage

her head on your wall, her face on your screen
it’s obscene to assume that she wants to be seen
a harsh flash
she’s chained
to your gaze

she’s doing her most famous impression
passionately projecting all her feigned obsessions
some fresh flesh
unstained
on your stage

but lost in chagrin, her play turns tragic
a manic eruption, a grotesque panic
her limbs twitch
deranged
a new state

she’s no longer a woman
she’s no longer a woman
she’s no longer a person to talk to
to look for and care for, a woman
to look for and talk to

she’s no longer a woman
she’s no longer a woman
she’s merely a body to look at
a monstrous body to look at
a vile body pouring from all sides
blood-drenched and sweat soaked and teary-eyed
her flesh cries but don’t avert your eyes

are those tears supposed to resemble emotions?