Doll Alive
A Doll alive in a paper house
Layn mildly upon her virgin bedding
Left to be all-bearing
Beneath silent, stained glass
Revealing a perfect paper family.
Within those four muted walls
Unveils the crimson splatter of immorality.
A doll resigned to the senses of daily desecration-
Purely a living doll with a guilty family.
Listening...
Listening innocently through polished porcelain lobes,
To the maddening thump-thump-thump of boots,
A cavalry;
Listening to the ache of apathy,
Listening to the sacrifice of chastity,
Listening to the slap-slap-slap of statutory.
---Caressing a doll’s synaptic ceramic skin,
Comes the torture of de trop desire.
Kept numb to the feelings of its full obscenity:
Feelings of seduction as silk sinks in,
Feelings of sickness closing in,
Feelings of suffocation in sin.
...Finally, left to only feel the cold bleed beneath a claim of fire.
A doll can only watch
Through those impure glassy orbs,
The popcorn plaster peeling.
Watching as the world soars,
As wonderland forms.
Watching, watching, watching, watching
Until the devil’s horns,
Blink into nothing.
Plunged down-down-down the rabbit hole.
Dropped into a doll’s promised paradise,
Kept sedated in His perverted fairy tales.
Within her own defiled Garden of Eden,
She is the pure and lovely maiden.
\One who dances a dazzling dance
At the beckoning of romance;
Further running from her reddened reality.
No longer a living doll in a hellscape;
She’s made her brief escape.
Found the pathetic dormouse
Hiding behind that weak teacup house.
Found the eccentric queen,
Stealing the head between
Perpetually trembling shoulders.
She grasps to the rush of a white rabbit
With his terrible tick-tick-ticking pocket watch.
Out of time.
Out of time before reality digs in
Like the scraping of nails against skin.
Intruding thief in a doll’s perfect paradise
Breaking the seal of dreams where she lives and breathes.
A brief escape, no more than reality kept frozen in dry ice.
The pain of Him seeping inside,
Dirtying Wonderland’s euphoria with His pride
And thus killing a doll’s rosy delusion.
Awoken as Sloth rises to the apocalypse.
Living doll more alive than dreaming
Kept beating by the precious stinging.
Constantly fighting for the breath of being.
Look at her!
Look upon her stilled body
Until you weep with visions full of blur.
A doll that will embody
The depth of your ignorance, your kept indifference.
Such a depth that cannot be measured by the ocean
Nor forgiven by the devotion
To your self-serving religion
Full of that merciful corruption.
Look at her!
Look until she fights with a survivor’s spite
Until she rises above those four guilty walls
With the vengeance that will ignite
From the rights given at a perfect porcelain doll’s birthright.