because there's no beauty between the lens.
maybe i should grow my fingers,
dye my eyelids transparent,
let the flowers in my throat bloom;
but it's all so uptight,
victim of taxes.
sometimes in sleep
there's this kind of
unreliable epiphany.
i can't distinguish reality these days.
it's all whirlwind,
caught me up;
i see beauty in you and
maybe no one sees it.
am i worth a shot
a flash and
a darker lens?
or will drops keep falling off the table,
like the missed chances i knew i had?
anonymous beauty takes credit
for what we believe we are.
invisible creatures
take on the stage and come out to play,
but i didn't write this script,
mine had a heart and a soul but-
heart and soul are worthless
when you can create sympathies.
the dictators on this island have taken on their decision,
it's not worth the try.
beauty is useless
when you can see it with your eyes.