A Welcome Displeasure

It was in tragedy of reflection that is
 Oh, purest of nights was to drink incessantly from these veins
 Beauty in comparison to no other
 A standard made in flesh will in sickening glory run
 Feverishly upon the razor's edge
 Admiration, this night shall end
 In detest of her mere reflection
 How beautiful, its merciless sway
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 How she loathes the sight of herself
 And with every frantic thrust
 Her pallid supple veins
 Showered in orgasmic tides of crimson
 Have quivered at their very sight
 What once was desired is now a mere sickening depiction
 A face so macabre, convulsions induced by vomiting
 No more a seductress, no less a queen
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 In detest of her mere reflection
 Her youthful complexion once adorned
 The paths carved through arterial fabrication
 At the hands of herself
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 You disgust me
 She cries with hoarseness in her throat
 The razor, its soliloquy silences all
 How beautiful, its merciless sway
 Her eyes, they close for one last time
 All impurities unwashed in this filth and dishonor