Pageant

The human race,
Society,
It’s all a pageant,
A beauty contest,
An insipid affair,

A masquerade on the streets,
We all put on glam dress faces,
Makeup over the tears,
A plastic smile for outside,
Who’s got the most beauteous mask?

The worlds a catwalk,
Fake visages,
Fake selves,
Objectifying each other,
Intoxicated on one anothers lies,

A smile on a polaroid,
Selfies with stupidity,
Interaction through a screen,
Charity for the likes,
Grovelling before the cyclopean god,

The human race,
A comedy,
A race we lose everyday.

Contortion

Somedays I long to be a contortionist,
A performer,
A sculptor of the body,
Creating the impossible with their form,
A Durvasa pose of my own,

Remold the rubber,
To rearrange oneself,
From this hideous thing,
Into an enticing object,
Improvement through pain,

Dislocate the flaws,
Reset the bones,
Loose joints of a broken soul,
Put this to there,
And that to over yonder,

Part of this cirque du soleil,
I’d be a human anew,
A macabre sculpture,
Something magnitudes more alluring,
But would I be myself?
Or just part of the troupe?