you never thread

[repost] Beauty isn't with us anymore. Mutilated petals recede from daylight, tatters on a whiskered lip, She curls from the knowing paws of gentle men, Back like the eyes of a snail: blind and bruised and terrible. Beauty wraps her ruptured eyes in silver gauze, Hides her treasures in a small, dark room, Well beyond this circle of loving hands. I have heard that rare flowers grow there, soft and lush in their decay, While beauty reclines amidst the rot, dressed only in her precious eyes. I have heard that she sways there slowly on a pedestal of fine disregard, Thin black threads curling out from between her lips. You men, you men, You men press on between those lips, Pulling them apart, them softly pulled apart, You skin back glisten-wet jaws to reveal the cache of radiant eyes within, And you are lost, you men. You are lost. Silver eyes reflect her face alone, Peach lips spread to preen their own shyly curling tongues. Her alone. And silvered eyes and silvered eyes and silvered eyes. I think that in this wide, black room there are many who, If we could only see them, would be too beautiful to understand or name. I think that there are many whose beauty surrounds them always, Shining and howling back from mirrored walls Like the hunger of an endless and isolate sea.

And I think that must be a HUGE pain in the ass.