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(i) as the autumn leaves drifted from the starved branches of moaning maples, she too fell, a fallen angel, hapless legs carved out of remorseful flesh, bitter ambrosia dripping from her veins, decaying daisies and sour mold scattering her bones in desperate lace, " is she beautiful?", the wind whispered shrilly.
(ii) her back arched like a crumbling colosseum, body once a palace of fine art inhabited by restless woes, backbones hollow as the skeletons rotting bones, she was an entire feast, delicious symphonies rolling off her tongue, spiderweb satin clinging to the curves of her hips, everybody yearned for a taste of her intrinsic lips, washed in watercolor dialect.
(iii) such a strange girl was she! ethereal as a moonlit boulevard, yet as betrayed as the devil herself, her eyes were hollow caverns of despair, yet echoed faintly with the lust of a fever dream, decaying into stardust with a melancholic melody.
(iv) chained to a faded mattress, others pleasure was her own personal hell, cruel fingers and heavy breath searching for honey that wouldn't drip for them, nectarine skin dissected and devoured by merciless teeth, she was losing herself in the arms of tricky saints, fading into an abysmal despair.
(v) champagne thick in her mouth, crumpled dollar bills simmering in her nightgown pocket, tears of rage caressing her cheeks. immortal deception sang her praises as she drowned in countless seas of lost men, lungs filled with the pungent perfume of sugar coated words and shattered crystal glasses.
"...what's your name?"
(vi)oh, how many time will she hear those three morsels of pity? pathetic, pathetic, the voice in the chasms of her mind spat.
(vii)she dutifully recited her lines like a broken record, syllables that wore her sick and weary, until she faded into fragmented abyss, cigarette smoke reflecting smoky nights. sour pomegranates unwillfully melted on her tongue, burnt into her mind like malevolent poetry.
(viii)"i shall ask you again," the wind murmured, "is she beautiful?"
(ix)"perhaps," the dying november replied, "though her glory is that of paradises destruction."
(x)and so, the dead girls corpse lay shriveled in the dirt, delicate as crushed chrysanthemums, crimson vines seeping like lovely poison from her painted mouth. all of the lies, the deceit, the filth, dribbled out of her in curtains of red wine.
