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Porcelain is becoming.

Necessary emotions fit well underneath a ceramic white face. This way they are ingested. Not attributed to outside forces. They do not crack the surface of the mask. When the mask slips, they race to leak out, so it must be promptly straightened. The porcelain has been formed into a permanent smile. But if you look closely, there is moisture collecting in the holes where eyes should be. These eyes are empty. Not looking out at what the world holds, but consumed on the internal workings of the brain. These eyes are glazed and lack focus...they replay moments in time that can never be recollected or grasped. The events that are circulating within become skewed and eventually lay waste in an empty cavern of burnt-out nerves. This waste begins to overcome the being behind the porcelain and transforms the soul into a mummified shell. An entire porcelain entity. It moves when told, it regurgitates what it hears, it is not inspired for fear of the mask's removal. Upon the downfall of the fixed white face, emotions will involuntarily escape and attach to the human, the living person, that dares look behind what has been a false setting.
This cannot happen. Oh for the heart to be encased in plaster! To cease beating is to never feel pain.
Closing the eyes that are barely recognizable, the soul within can shut out what is real. It can stop tears, it can reduce anxiety. It can alter the need to slice and tear at the non-porcelain flesh. The porcelain tiles long for the taste of fresh blood. They seek it. Or no, perhaps it is the blood that seeks release from the body.
It is done.
Facing her mask, she hesitates in putting it snugly against her dead face. Her tired heart longs for its protection, but her mind, not yet consumed by a stone replacement, this overactive mind rejects the authority of this porcelain demon. It says, Resist! The anxiety is a necessary bi-product of humanity, but it only exists in you child! Do not shut out the world. Keep yourself whole and uncorrupted and allow yourself to inspire someone else. I know there is pain, oh naive one, but it will subside when you find your way again. Give in to your feelings, let the water fall, do whatever is necessary to deal with it, but never cover yourself up! Let yourself be driven by your shaking hands and your sad heart. Delve into this and figure out why. Learn and discover. You will rise above without the doll's face replacing yours.
But the heart overpowers...the heart is finished for the day. It is the weakest of organs and wishes to be injected with the sweet power of morphine. Morphine that, once hitting the pink surface, turns into stone and encases a once powerful, pumping heart.
The morphine will then spread like a cancer with spider's legs and the speed of wildcats until it reaches the nervous system. Once there it will devour the energy found there and replace it with cynicism derived from a brain that fights to remain alive, but will be quickly overcome. Now, the entire inside has been carved out and replaced with a cast. Then, at last, the arms reach for the porcelain mask. Emotive eyes and eager lips are quickly covered with a sadistic smile. Yes, it is done.
The spirit, finding no life from the destruction within, flees and slumbers permanently, until something can crack the mask that is found leaning over a brilliant porcelain grave.


Gerber Daisy

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