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Long blonde hair
dyed and corpse-rigid
in chemical waxes
around Cubic zirconia,

the sheen of skin
shaved and waxed daily
for a decade straight
under photographic paint
against the spotlight,

the vacant smile
of dazzling teeth
whitewashed in bleach
until gums bleed,

the lingering smell
of wrinkle cream
on crow's feet,

a life built on foundation
spackled over surgical scars,

enough plastic to correct
every one of God's mistakes,

the stream of incoherent babble
like senseless machine gun fire
into a captive crowd,

Darwin rolling in his grave,

a trophy standing where it's placed,
meticulously labored
golden brown gilding
over corroded scrap metal.

of all misfortune, the worst kind of fate is to have been happy.

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The following comments are for "Misses South Carolina"
by ochimusha

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