The DOLL HOUSE

Antique porcelain doll existing in a modern-day world. Vintage lover from a long time ago, where oh where is my darling? Cupid… run along, run along, do not fall down that hole. Angel wings, my dear friend, time is precious, can you not see? Running faster, my feet are not moving… I can hear your breathing. Why do you sigh? Your heart is full of thick black ink, Oh yes, I read between those fake words, did your mother never tell you, “Actions speak louder than words?” Yester-year shall come tomorrow, and with bring the sunshine. Open your eyes and see little one, that you are by no means better than me! Hesitance, tut, tut! Say what, you say? An outlandish prank, your lipstick is pink… Ahhhhhh, at last, a smile for me! 

Oh No Little Birdy.

Tick. Tock Tick. Her cherry-red lipstick is imprinted on the wine glass. Her black sequined dress is gleaming glittering quaintness. A grotesque elegance for the blue-eyed girl. His jealousy is prickly and sickening, such a juicy incidence. Shallow and stale, he is nutty and sour. The other is running, backwards and downwards, spiralling straightforward into the nothing. No!... something it itchy, an exuberant mess. Old-fashioned and gentle… red wine spills, this gifted little nonentity is something of the sort, a royal obedient, ripe and ready. Thump! Thump! Thump! ... Laughter is the best medicine. 

Something.

Disconcerted, fatigued, and apprehensive… her bittersweet courageousness is disquieting. Stop! She trembles; it’s exasperating, but this discouraged disgust is somewhat delightful – warm and fuzzy… she feels vague. Suspiciously sympathetic for his malicious fowl play, her critical uncomfort is puzzling, she takes in a lungful of air, she feels queasy. Ah, The wonderful kindliness of an incensed vivacious nothing!