The Purse of Glamour
By: Kosative D.
Oh, but couldn’t it be?--
that tasty paint bourgeoisie!
An epic shimmer to make a diamond pale--
burst but open from each cunt’s frail nail!
Oh, rapture of perfection and glamour;
the ditziness—a sparkle bound treat!
Swing that cosmetics hammer
as the illusion rocks to the beat!
A purse! The opening, but stagnant as a well.
It glitter fucked the dance hall in it’s prom dress withered spell.
That curtain drenched in lip gloss--
a mask so plastered only time could tell
those goddesses drenched in all they’ve lost
that forever they’ll bask in their beatific lipstick Hells.