behind scenes

I am the face of the 60s

at least I was

time is a luxury you can't afford

with the expense of beauty

and those only recognized for there skin

are left frozen in their prime

only to be remembered as a face

a face invincible to aging

and yet here I sit

a shriveled relict

I was not unfamiliar to fluorescent lights

and the weight of powder smearing my face

all just to create the essence of an angelic character on screen

a screen which projected me to a pack of wolves

prowling to devour my youth and beauty

every pack has an alpha

an alpha who boxed me too young

for me to even realize who i was

the alpha who concealed my apprehension of fame to its pack

all buried underneath the surface of my own image

I was howled at to endure manikins pecking at my flesh and bone

all just to transform my personage from the core to the skin

into an idealistic perception of perfectionism

and only to be placed in black and white paper walls with black and white paper people

for the feast of the wolves

under their alpha

my mother

I am her golden daughter amongst the black and white

Tuesday Weld.