Bella Muerte

Sitting with bleeding teeth and copper strings cutting into her fingers. Her fingers become numb as rust fall into her wounds.

She holds on to her doll. Her cut nails sink deeper than Strossner’s wooden bullets and Peron’s white coated teeth.

The cooper wraps around her wrists tighter and cuts deeper. Deeper into her marrow. She still holds onto the doll

who twists and turns her plush spine until Castro and Figueiredo break. Break into millions of lost pieces never to be found.

Her finger numb as they turn black. Her limbs and hair disintegrate into lyllacs that drift along the unknown currents.

The doll sinks. The polluted water unwinds her threads. Her flesh desolves into fine strings to be used by golden artisans who will craft lifeless replicas.


Doll picture provided by MoodieVoodies


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