Please Excuse the Hair.
It’s under construction.
Today’s cocktail Is a formulaic fizz-free serum.
A mix of organic,
Vegan loving goodness tucked into a little black box
And a shit-storm of artificial whosawhatsit
Because my Hair needs all the help it can get.
Because when I mean frizz-free,
Is that I mean my Hair is still frizzing,
Give me your dull
Because a shower every day
Is a price I’ll pay
Than having to deal With the monstrosity Of my lion’s mane.
Gnarly and knotty
High on humidity
A living breathing
Sweating up my neck.
It feeds on my self-consciousness
Sucks up the water and ‘moisturize-me’ products
That I tremblingly hand to it
- A peace offering of sorts -
And spits on my well-wishes.
Heaving and moaning
And I cannot comply with its infinite want.
My body grows small
And the Hair grows larger,
Picking up strays in the wind
As the tumbleweeds of the desert do.
And I no longer exist.