The model was a skinny girl
all elbows, shanks and knees
coathanger limbs and gobo eyes
and skin like waxy cheese.
She graced the colour supplements
of Middle-brow epistles
the filthy stare, the Martian cheeks
the lips pursed to a whistle.
The model went to premieres
half-drowning in her coat
dark bins the sizes of discuses
and pearls around her throat.
She rode in armoured hummer vans
she lived on Marlboro Lights
her mobile filled her stifled days
and vodka filled her nights.
She frequented the restaurants
where filthy money lingers
shot poison at the waiting staff
and snapped her slender fingers.
She stayed in six star oil states
in air-conditioned sky
saw poverty from blacked-out glass
and never wondered why.
The crackhead hacks on fashion mags
would laud her vacant poses
made missions up her perfect arse
and claimed it smelled of roses:
Oh! Beauty is as beauty does
she’s beauty incarnate
the way she plays the camera lens
will always fascinate.
Her photographs are so complete
there’s nothing she won’t give
the coldest thing we’ve ever seen
and yet somehow she lives.
The model read their words of course
and every day was surer
each time her face was reproduced
it some how made her purer.
The hummer, Marlboros, vodka, photos,
premieres and praise
all whirled around her head to form
a beautiful malaise.
The camera flash, her endless stash
her cash all ebbed away
at what she had inside of her
until she woke one day
and felt like she was weightless there
a perfect empty thing
that all the stuff that made her her
had passed right through her skin.
She went to find a looking glass
suspended in a dream
she picked it up and fixed a gaze
and then let out a scream.
For perched upon her china chin
a single crimson blot
a pussed-packed, angry, nasty, throbbing
greasy, bulging spot!
D’ya mind if I sit down, my love?
the filthy pimple sneered,
I thought about your pretty neck
but I prefer it here.
I need somewhere to rest a while
cos something keeps repeating
but not that it surprises me
the awful crap I’m eating.
Eurggggggghhhhh *rasp* nah
afraid that wasn’t it
apologies again my love
but something’s gotta give.
The model gave a mirthless squeak
collapsed upon the floor
her knuckles white around the glass
her eyes pinned on her jaw.
I think that’s for the best my dear
The heaving spot explained
Cos what I’ve got to say to you
will test your tiny brain.
Essentially what’s happening here
is something much akin to
The Picture of Dorian Gray
though not that I’d begin to
assume that you’d have read such things … ?
The model dropped her jaw
Oh silly me, yes I forgot
your reading age is four.
In short this fella’s ugly side
is shown externally
in his case it’s an oil painting
but for you it’s me.
For years you’ve misinterpreted
what people saw in you
you thought they wanted more of you
and as these feelings grew
you tried to push out everything
that lay beneath your skin
and judging by the state of me
I’d say that was quite grim.
By now the girl had panda eyes
she wiped them clumsily
But what about the things, she blubbed
I’ve done for charity.
Oh Jesus Christ not this again
I know that games you’ve played
those men who gave you diamonds
were NOT from Christian Aid.
The Model looked dispirited
glanced briefly at her hands
Ah! what about that TV show
I did for that old man?
She asked the pimple airily
convinced that she had won
My darling that’s not charity
that’s Michael Parkinson.
Last year I gave a tramp a grand
I AM nice that’s what that shows!
You put that in a press release!
and did a round of chat shows!
The model bit her bottom lip
then uttered her encore:
I gave a girl a sweetie once.
It’d fallen on the floor!
My dear, don’t try to pull the wool
I have the perfect view
the only beneficiary
from things you do is YOU!
The model gave her trademark humph
and pulled herself to standing
her eyes fixed on an upwards gaze
she strode off down the landing.
That’s right my dear, the pimple sneered
pretend this isn’t real.
Pretend I’m just a normal spot
just something to conceal.
The Model grabbed some Clearsil
and wiped the soap on him
until a mass of foamy stuff
enveloped her whole chin.
The bubbly mixture groaned and fizzed
it seemed the spot was purged
but then the cloud contracted and
his dreadful face emerged.
But twice as large and twice as red
think golf ball caked in blood
he winked and grinned an awful grin
while lapping up the suds.
The model screamed like blackboard scrapes
and grabbed a pair of scissors
but when she snipped a bit off him
the wretched thing grew bigger.
till after half a frenzied hour
of stabbing at full pace
a squidgy, scarlet soccer ball
was hanging off her face.
Oh joy, the vile thing exclaimed
Oh Joy! Oh Joy! Oh Praise be!
You thought after bulimia
you’d never have a baby!
Oh Mummy, what a miracle!Oh Mummy, you’ve been blessed
now find something to bite down on
cos Baby wants the breast!
He showed a hundred needle teeth
whipped round and bit her neck
the model cried and flailed her arms
collapsed and hit the deck.
Good girl, Good girl, the spot said as
he ate her like a snake
That’s perfect dear, yes, just like that
you’re doing really great.