Shall I elaborate on beauty,
its sickly obsession,
a bargain that polishes features,
yet seeps beneath the skin,
a serpent patiently waiting
for the precise moment to strike
and slowly, savorously, swallow
you whole.

The fabulous are beautiful
and the beautiful are happy,
but happiness is nothing
more than an exaggerated
form of contentment, unattainable,
as glass smiles demand effort,
as if at any moment it could
shatter to pieces,
revealing the beauty that was
traded for ugliness.

The misconstrued facade,
weakening the world with every
pound gained, every pound lost.
Infecting the children,
rejecting the adults,
while dissecting the elderly.
Pounds are foe, amphetamines
our ally, yet our weaponry is
defective, much like the universal
pursuit...
of failure.

2001 R. Charles
(All Rights Reserved)