Extraction of Beauty
I stand in concentration over the gleaming metal table ready to begin my quest,
But mindfully and constrained, I won’t be wasteful because there is an end…about 5-6 liters in.
Sedation was easy, catatonic states are for those waiting to become a masterpiece.
The dutiful cleansing was tedious, the end result before me though was oh so worth it.
Taking a moment to breathe in the simplicities of life, eyes closed and hands poised.
I begin to stare at the rise and fall of the chest cavity, a rhythmic beauty in its own right.
But I am in search of the inner beauty, that which shines through the very pupils of a being.
This body washed and purified in its naked glory is just the beginning.
Hair strong and vibrant, muscles taut and defined, bone structure riveting, I could gaze forever,
But that would be a tragedy in and of itself, to end my mission before I’ve even begun.
A bird in the hand cannot be accepted this time, completion and perfection are my demands.
I will dig until I find it, until I hold it in my hand, tangible True Beauty, you will be my gain.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” I tell myself as I diligently lift each orb from its suctioned place.
I hold them, dissect them; marvelously engineered, but not as stunning as my treasure will be.
The mind is a terrible thing to waste, so maybe beauty hides in the folds of that fleshy organ.
I peel back the fascia, pop apart the hemispheres, I am intrigued by the findings, but not mesmerized.
The tongue can be one of beauty or give death; it is of no interest in this journey.
The vocal chords can purr songs that give life to ideals such as love and faith,
But it lays lifeless without the vibrations of air flowing through it, what a disappointment.
Maybe the lungs pink and moving will give me more of a rise, although I doubt that I’ll find it.
Perhaps I will find it in the lower part of the body, where waste is banished and cleansed for use.
I am tingling and vibrating with excitement as my new revelation leads my nimble fingers.
I cannot slow down, yet I must not overlook anything either, only 5-6 liters of time draining away.
It takes patience not to destroy while trying to find the beauty inside but being snared by entrails.
Exhausted with my restrained pace I hack through muscle that holds it all together, a nice neat package.
I attack the bone as if its hardness is preventing my very existence, maybe it lives in the marrow.
Where is the beauty within and why do I feel like it’s oozing out even though I see nothing but platelets.
“Can it really reside in the most obvious place,” I ponder as I zoom in on the faintly beating heart.
I carefully slice into the chambers with controlled enthusiasm, my own breath labored and audible.
My eyes burn with excitement as I concentrate on the heart of this open matter.
I am now holding in my hand, a lifeless organ that has ceased to pump life and beauty.
Where is the inner beauty that I have sacrificed to find, destroyed a piece of art in search of more…
Violently I release my anger of its avoidance on what is left of my pet, my poor mangled pet.
Choking the elusive last breath from an already lifeless body in frustration at my complications,
The truest beauty seeping out from between my fingers encircling and squeezing the filleted neck,
It all escapes me as I collapse in 5-6 liters of wasted time and substance, wallowing in filth.
Another failed mission, the search continues…
Copyright © 2009 Natasha Guy
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