Skip to main content

Unseen Mannequin (Spencer Black-Lafayette, LA)


In this old costume store, a shrine of a mannequin with old fashioned clothing stands hidden in the very back, away from anyone who might show interest. At one point in time this mannequin might have been beautiful but who would know? White spots showing from underneath the white painted skin, black marks all over the face maybe from overuse. Maybe it's a shrine because it's more realistic and unique of its kind with the worn lipsticked lips and fading eyes.

Those mannequins seen in the real stores, dressed with their custom designs, the whatever kids are interested in, the whatever is more dessert for the eyes – they just don't know. This older mannequin seems to be wiser than that especially with its collection of different sparkling, red, Dorothy shoes below it.

The mannequin must believe there is no place like home. And maybe this is not its home. It could be that this mannequin knows that home is the most real place it can be. Home is the only time it can be itself. But this mannequin will not complain or hide underneath the soupy, sticky mounds of makeup just to be accepted in the outside world. So it is placed in the very back of an old costume store.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Steadfast (Catrina Crowe - Ruston, LA)

"I Love You" is Enough (Louis Toliver Jr)

Please don’t stress I see what you do all year Everyday you show me Through your actions How much you care for me But please don’t stress It’s not money or possessions That make me give my life to you It’s the moments that are small When people don’t care to look That you show your love most So don’t stress to demonstrate What you already know you do Just say “I love you” and… My underwear will come off for you

God Will Cry (Louis Toliver Jr - Swartz, LA)

This is your soul trying to connect to you for last the time. We have come to the final crossroad in our life. This is the end. These are our last earthly breaths.
From this abuse of yourself, we will both die. You will be a rotting corpse. I will fade away into Darkness. People may mourn your death, at first, but you will be forgotten, while I am left here molested by the hands of Hell.
God will cry, “My child didn’t fulfill her purpose.”
I’m begging you; don’t do this. It has been a slow ride, a slow descent to suicide.