CRIME Poem: The Unraveling, by Darien Daly

Thumping music blares.
My heart constricts to its bass.
My hair falls freely, wildly, down my back.
My skin is pale and smooth.
I smell like burnt almonds and cherry—
Sweet, but dark.

Bending at the waist,
My elbow pressed against a scuffed vanity,
I concentrate—
Then retreat.

I need a sharpener.
I pull open the acrylic drawer,
Once clear, now veiled in dusty dew.
The music flows—primitively, desolate.

I grab the sharpener, pink residue clinging to it,
And I turn.
The eye kohl whittled to a point.
I concentrate again.

I line my eye—
Black.
My pupils dilate,
Round, infinite holes.
I stare.
A fridge smile cracks—
One that could crumble at any second.

I crank the pencil again.
Line my left eye—stabbed.
I flinch, drop everything.
Black smudge spills down my cheek.

In the mirror: bloodshot eyes,
Morose makeup smeared.
The corners of my mouth pull back—
Teeth bare, sneering,
A wicked smile.

Then I laugh—
A cold cackle.
Then heat.
Then tears.

I laugh and laugh and laugh—
A crow and a roar.
A poisonous wail.
Into hysteria.
Sweet impassion.

I surrender.
Crumble—like the pencil on the floor.
My face, a wreckage.

I am painting a picture
Of what I should be—
Carnal.
Coy.
Curious.

Crushed.

Glitter dances in shards and fragments.
The watery chatter inside my veins.
The music skips—
A solitary cadence.

My heart is smeared across my glossy face.
Charcoal.