Paper Mache Persona..

She cowered into the hopeless confines of her paper mache persona,

Matching faces with outward projections of the inner turmoil, meeting minds made of similar despair, agreeing to their well made convulsions of self-neglect to come to terms with her own image of who they all were not.

She existed in lieu, on islands afar,

She beached her body and glued it to materials,

Whilst her mind followed the sway of the paradisaical breeze created from optical illusions that were housed in the chamber of her unknowingness,

But the chamber remained stagnant without her awareness, so she sifted the grains of sand through her mind, which lit up the chamber like a total solar eclipse, where time ceased to exist, the room sound and sight proof, the door handle available but without any traces of finger prints, the stairs as steep as a vertical black hole, the walls made from cracks of failed mortar, the chair in the corner reminiscent of the space-less form that existed between the chamber and the knowing, the door being the key to existing as the space of the form, the radio playing lullabies of gentle suppression until the soothing voices become louder as the senses grew into the senseless images of what is actually hidden..

She then Flew to the underworld of disparities, pulling on the stitching of the moon to unravel the light of the sun,

She took a right turn to play with the hidden,

Unmasking the tape from the box of deception,

Finding the translucency of the intent,

The vault displayed the burning of energy in the name of lies, that sat on the foundation of cracked pepper sprinkled on top of the dry salt-lake of truth,

She chewed on relinquished fear, breathing in fragments of undigestable gum, stretching the gum into the interpretive sentences of irrational meanings, clouding the logical components of her so called mechanical device.. her knots fraying at the seams, and as the switching came undone she released herself one by one..

~Leya Hunter.