The Book of Vomit

A beauty rests against a tree.
Feminine, Soft. Her features,
Stunning.
The sun captures the path
between her breasts
and armpits, kindly.
Curls grace her marble skin
and collapse at her shoulders
soft, and silent.
Perfection
aches this young girl
to her gullet.

While turning the pages
of a book soaked in vomit,
Soaked in the colourful insides
of another genius, she reads.
She reads the bile and acid,
with her pretty eyes.
She reads the Scriptures,
at her pretty fingertips.

Grass curls around her Toes,
Leaves fall and kiss her Ankles,
the Wind tickles her Cheeks,
The earth is praying, pleading
to be written by such a beauty.

But stories crave Vomit.
They crave the truth, raw
and Undigested.
They crave our insides.
And Perfection
aches this young girl
to her gullet.

Nikki Satira