the gestating vomit's back,
so much, too far gone,
for a skin-graft.
save the face,
the body can disfigure all.

they call me a hated and pitied sight.
better-off dead than maimed in fright.
I'm a wraith that lives,
I don't feel or think at all.

give me skills to redirect,
to cloud their minds,
and to resurrect,
the deviant will,to stand and ponder all.......

it'll be enough, just not to see.
though to live,
carries it's own fief and luster.

though it's best, not to be, again.
the effigy will read: dead is better than this,
at the present moment.

the obituary reads: transcending of our own judgment.

craving the sanctuary I need,
from the villagers wielding pitchforks.




(THIS IS DEDICATED TO DoctorASH)
~Mason Allison