smooth lies lie behind the masked face
sweet words to cover up a grave mistake
injected for so long
those roots started to stink
can’t last long
like peyote, they have lost their first freshness
fumbled with weird voodoo sounds
went west instead of south
nothing could grow from this
only rejection, repugnance, ruthlessness
obnoxious taste transferred to perfume
from a brutally raped virgin
will not dissolve in alkali
all fetters must bind me
to finally be able to release
smooth, blissful secretion
knowing no lies and hypocrisy
abhorring their wretched nature
---
Thank you for reading!
If you liked this poem, you can add your Insights, Comment, leave a Heart, Tip, Pledge, or Subscribe. I will appreciate any support you have shown for my work.
You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Mescaline Brisset on my Vocal profile. The art of creation never ends.
About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
Find me on Medium
Reader insights
Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Keep reading
More stories from Mescaline Brisset and writers in Poets and other communities.
One Minute to Noon
“OK, guys!” I screech over the macaw-like chatter in my sophomore English class. My students are sharing mementos they accumulated during summer vacation. The assignment is to interview each other and write an expository essay about another student’s treasure: Misty’s coquina shells and sand dollars from Florida, Ruth’s two Navajo pottery mugs from New Mexico, Roxy’s perfume from Paris, Kevin’s chocolate from Hershey Pennsylvania, a picador’s sword from a bullfight in San Fermin Spain, where one of my favorite students, Manny Pérez, ran with the bulls at festival.
By Lacy Loar-Gruenler5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Mescaline Brisset is not accepting comments at the moment
Want to show your support? Send them a one-off tip.