but beauty is a living room

in a warehouse.

 

It lies in glass houses

measured in square footage.

 

Beauty is but a bird

Silk screened,

 “only ninety-nine,

ninety-nine.”

 

My art is the pain in touch,

 

sanctity

Sucked from the pope

Screaming.

 

It feels like

raw chicken,

eats like my lovers

ate me,

 

so feed it.

 

by Brittney Blystone

 

 

Brittney Blystone studied creative writing in the United States at Northern Kentucky University and in England at University of East London. 

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