[returnoftheBIZ]

I’ve never seen such make-up smears
On such a dolled up silver screen beauty.
Here you go Hollywood horror,
Fear not, for all you need is this compact,
And mirror to apply some personality.
So, modern artist for the hiding of feelings,
Is that what you call happiness?
The ability to mask what others won’t accept.
Paint me a portrait over burnt canvas,
With today’s form of brushes and paint.
After all, you create a masterpiece every morning,
And I’m just asking to see your face.

Jackets over puddles and spaghetti string romances,
Are embellished to the point of surrealism.
And when I frequent these ballroom dances,
I can’t help but excite the chance this might,
Be the effects of some inhaled hallucinogen.
But the only trip I feel is the one I’m hearing,
Through a slur of exhaled sounds and syllables.
Roll down the red carpet and number these tables
Because we need guidance like we need labels.
And when my mouth fills with blood and saliva,
Maybe because I can’t help but salivate when I think,
How sour life can be plus the hole I chewed in my cheek.

Silver screen beauty, shed your tears,
And your fears will go along with them,
In tumbling revolutions halting at your chin.
Find comfort in the lack of understanding,
For, healthy hearts must realize the world is a tomb,
For the dead that never stopped breathing.
Skyscrapers are just enlarged mausoleums,
With doors for the blind, but curious spirit.
Dig up a cemetery and construct a museum,
God forbid we don’t document our downfall.
Fear not, my silver screen beauty,
Because sooner or later, we all go numb.