Beautiful Disease

Beautiful Disease
Hairbrush by Rimel Neffati

Beautiful Disease

It’s a Road trip of sorts,
How do you get there?
Pick your poison.

That’s right
Where do you go
To be alone?
Not to be seen
By any eyes;
Other than your own?

Isolate yourself
In that room called, Safe;
Lose yourself
In the scene of the crowd;
Throw yourself down
Face first on the ground.
Blind side eyes scathe
The imaginary ceiling
Fervently searching cracks
For the almighty trap door.
Run like an inmate
To your fetish, The Escape;
As if on a treasure hunt
Through the neighborhood.
Embrace the roundup
Of Mother’s Little Helpers;
Follow them
With rain water chasers
To your destination;
A long way from home.

“Thank you for the tragedy. I need it for my art.”
― Kurt Cobain Playful

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