Hi, I'm Christian: Fact.

Never do that thing where people fall in love, it'll ruin you.

The bitch is back.

Miss me?

The Red Skeleton

The night she died started out like any other night.
She looked beyond the mirror,
Somewhere past the icy glass into a delusional land.
Getting lost in a reflection of too many imperfections.
The night she died, she sat alone in a luxurious tub.
Her thin frame captured by darkness, broken only by a beam of light.
Her body distorted by the water as well as her own thoughts.
And even in the dark she could feel Ana's scrawny arms pointing out flaws,
She could still taste Mia lingering throughout her mouth-
As she ever so carefully tried to breathe.
These actions, nicknamed Ana and Mia, a danger to befriend.
Everyone treated her with precaution except for them.
Instead molding her into their sight of perfection,
Their ideas of impossible size.
The night she died, in front of her hung a sleek object.
Mirror mirror on the wall who is the thinnest of them all?
Mirror mirror on the wall who is the thinnest of them all?
And just as always, she ignored her pleas.
The girl in the mirror only turned with great disgust,
Her shoulders sharp enough to cut.
Stating her obvious demand, mouthing, if only you had lost, Five. More. Pounds.
And the girl, trapped within herself, just on the other side, broke down.
A complex shivering cry, she submerged deeper into the tub.
The night she died she betrayed the mirror,
And became part of it all at once.
Because the more her heart rate increased the more she wanted to yell and scream
And so she did. Her knuckles scourging the mirror.
Bleeding horror.
The rain of jagged glass making splashing noises in her bath.
It only took two heart beats for her to lose her mind.
And what was the point in finding it, if all it caused was a reign of misery?
The night she died, the skeleton girl had found odd beauty.
She wasn't sure and she didn't care but-
For reasons unknown she broke out into a vulgar cackle.
Perhaps, from the guilt or the pain, when she realized red liquid made her come alive.
At least for a few last smiles of discovery.
The night she died, she saw a peculiar sight.
Soft flesh muted the sound of glass against bone,
The color of passion trickling down into a waterfall of insecurity.
And the peculiar sight came when without warning,
She saw her again, saw herself once more.
A beautiful wreck dripped in cold red,
Only small speckles of her ever reflected back then.
And for the first time she could shyly smile back.
The night she died, she was her only witness.

--Christian Castillo

Hi, I'm Christian

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Fact.

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