marionette

hanging precariously from a beam of heaven,
a shapeless shadow hovering in the void
mane of disheveled midnight hair hiding the artificial face
that smiles blankly, hiding the impossible tears
a skin of pristine wood, painted white as virginity
scarred with chips and dents from the carver's knife
skinny long-legged form, miniature of humanity
with gauze bandages too loose hanging from the elbows
universe of convoluted crucifixes, where does it end?
jointed fingers lightly crooked, unwillingly posed
levitated by taut razor wire imbedded in each knuckle
gleaming sharply in lithe straight arcs to the vertical abyss
lines of blood like tainted crimson water dripping off the chin,
from trying to sever the wire with lacquered teeth
a vague light shimmering from the clouds, holder of the strings
heartless puppeteer hiding behind corrupted screens of cherry
the helpless victim a caged soul of wood and string and hair,
and innocent glass eyes under fluttering false lashes
sobs wracking a white-ribbed chest that should not breathe
cemeteries of buried dreams and memories, scraped away
a strident song of gasping death, bloody thorns, and screams
piercing as the lightning in the night of the human eye
twisted spine, stretching bones, parody of murder
splinters breaking off from the chafed knees and toppling down
mechanized imprisonment, scented of life and dried saliva
pivoting on strings hanging tightly from an unseen underworld
swinging gently in the twilight wind and listening to a reversed echo
universe of convoluted crucifixes, where does it end?