Pictures.

the world is automated, a machine

spinning off key tuned

messages screaming from the billboards

weaving promises too good to be true

---

beauty can be found in pockets

somewhere far away from the glamour the lust and the falseness

beauty is frozen in pictures

---

how many of us wanted to be painted pretty

to be part of that photograph

to be recreated

glossy and full like the centrefolds

the magazines that make no-ones into stars

celebrated beautiful art stars

---

but now you take your own pictures

catching beauty in your flickershot lens

possessing it and making it belong

perhaps in your eyes and

under your thumb the breath of the world is transformed

into something undulatingly true and

vulnerable in its exposed damage but so much more

real

---

perhaps, though your viewfinder and

in your pictures, there is love