Satin and Smoke

I’m a whore for looking expensive—

I know that.

My body is bound only to what fills it with incredible tension.

Beneath miles of floating fields,

my truths lay alive, residing in the depths of my mind

I will never become a stranger to the lies I have welcomed in,

I've let them drive me into madness,

I constantly feel the world spin.

I am a body born and blazed with neural branches encrusted in vigor,

but I’ve led my limbs to wear down and snap

through the cracks where my reason once lingered,

a whisper grows bigger

telling tales of my flesh, far too torn to unwrap

My time is spent grasping the veil that sheers away my desires,

until I crack within the sickening spread of lust turned wildfire

While life outside continues to pass,

for me—it’s all frozen still

I still stand eyeing a figure, short and twisted in unappealing shapes

Time slipping by in wasted hours,

each glance repeating the same harsh ache

I am fallen, lost to obsession—

The intense pride to wrap every curve in stacks of richly deserved cash

As my body and power burn to ash,

I know not a single piece I hold is truly my own.

I am less than a woman,

I have become an object alone.

I have silvers, cloths, and jewels draped over me,

filling my head with sin.

I've hid every trace of what was once smooth and loved skin.

In the fullness of time,

even my finest fabrics

are destined to be ripped.