Beauty Plus Cosmetics

The earth, a tiny hollow shell
Balanced on my knuckles
And leaning toward the poles,
It rocks against the place set out for it,
Dips deep beneath the chill
The cold;
It flips my head,
A thousand curling hairs
Separate, settled shoulder
Spewed by frigid winds
Fragmented ice, piece by piece,
It sticks;
Like chewy soggy takeout food
Windy hair and purplish eyes
Rimmed fried and fried and ice-cream wide,
The ripped open, ravine skies
It shifts-
I float adrift the open sea
Torrents whack against the boat,
Ice whips,
Blocky tumbling watery skin
Sea hands scream wet across my lips