Porcelain
Blue lines,
Heavy and thick
With carbonated blood,
Meander idly beneath
The plastic tanned porcelain
Of this unfortunate flesh.
Antagonistic self-deprecation
Coarses through my veins,
Rubbing raw the walls of frailty.
Malevolence screams,
Lacerating the perfect blue structures
With smiling malice.
It seems unnatural
That porcelain should bleed,
Yet here I lie,
Bloody beneath
The unscathed cloak of happiness.