Death Jar
Written by: Marc-Anthony
Photography by: Patrick Baldonado
V intage labels pasted on cold hearts; a product of diamond mining in a crystal dish
- the mirage of luxury as vagary. Entrancing mystique of resounding and familiar heart-
aches and soul crushing love have left us disoriented. Snobbishness in its finest hour,
oh what a confusion that knocks at every beat. We chase variety with our nets in tow,
devoured by curiosity, those fluttering & flying beauties - though they wisp through the
teeth of our delicate fingertips. Each zephyr summons every intimacy we’ve ever cared
to desire as if we shall never tire from the chase.
Anguish and depth consumes all; cocoon state of mind – the voodoo of a deathless hal-
lucination overtakes all sense of emotion. The nightcap unknowingly our final adieu; in
the same mood and manner where our first encounter was flooded with simplicity and
innocence. I knew this place like every curve of your face and every mellow ridge of your
lips. My coquette, both engaging and suggestive, interrupted my breath as I became
aware of indescribable panic and suffocation; a sharp, thrusting, centerline tear that
restrained me to the wall. Hues of blue, purple and reflective satin are now my wings;
encased. Frailty sets in as I graduate with divine honors, recoiling as my final breath
escapes into your lungs; forever your trophy and you my cheval glass. The pin prick, the
poison, the opalescence of her beauty; unknowingly calling to eternal silence.
Foolish the day I became part of your butterfly collection.
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