Doll Alive

A Doll alive in a paper house

Layn mildly upon her virgin bedding

Left to be all-bearing

Beneath silent, stained glass

Revealing a perfect paper family.

Within those four muted walls

Unveils the crimson splatter of immorality.

A doll resigned to the senses of daily desecration-

Purely a living doll with a guilty family.

Listening...

Listening innocently through polished porcelain lobes, 

To the maddening thump-thump-thump of boots, 

A cavalry;

Listening to the ache of apathy,

Listening to the sacrifice of chastity,

Listening to the slap-slap-slap of statutory. 

---Caressing a doll’s synaptic ceramic skin,

Comes the torture of de trop desire.

Kept numb to the feelings of its full obscenity:

Feelings of seduction as silk sinks in,

Feelings of sickness closing in,

Feelings of suffocation in sin.

...Finally, left to only feel the cold bleed beneath a claim of fire.

A doll can only watch

Through those impure glassy orbs, 

The popcorn plaster peeling. 

Watching as the world soars,

As wonderland forms. 

Watching, watching, watching, watching

Until the devil’s horns, 

Blink into nothing.

Plunged down-down-down the rabbit hole.

Dropped into a doll’s promised paradise,

Kept sedated in His perverted fairy tales.

Within her own defiled Garden of Eden,

She is the pure and lovely maiden.

\One who dances a dazzling dance

At the beckoning of romance;

Further running from her reddened reality.

No longer a living doll in a hellscape;

She’s made her brief escape.

Found the pathetic dormouse

Hiding behind that weak teacup house.

Found the eccentric queen,

Stealing the head between

Perpetually trembling shoulders.

She grasps to the rush of a white rabbit

With his terrible tick-tick-ticking pocket watch.

Out of time.

Out of time before reality digs in

Like the scraping of nails against skin.

Intruding thief in a doll’s perfect paradise

Breaking the seal of dreams where she lives and breathes.

A brief escape, no more than reality kept frozen in dry ice.

The pain of Him seeping inside,

Dirtying Wonderland’s euphoria with His pride

And thus killing a doll’s rosy delusion.

Awoken as Sloth rises to the apocalypse.

Living doll more alive than dreaming

Kept beating by the precious stinging.

Constantly fighting for the breath of being.

     Look at her!

Look upon her stilled body

Until you weep with visions full of blur.

A doll that will embody 

The depth of your ignorance, your kept indifference.

Such a depth that cannot be measured by the ocean

Nor forgiven by the devotion

To your self-serving religion 

Full of that merciful corruption.

     Look at her! 

Look until she fights with a survivor’s spite

Until she rises above those four guilty walls

With the vengeance that will ignite

From the rights given at a perfect porcelain doll’s birthright.