Fashion Poem by Max Aljoszyn

I don't remember if I was invited. Or was it just a channel-surfing.
Anyway I saw them.
Have seen them naked and beaten, hurting the viewer's eye,
wrapped in white paper, bloody faces, broken lips and running make-up,
embodying the grace of violence,
on their passage by a catwalk of nails and broken glass.
Have seen them in dresses made of curtains and packets,
wearing jewelry of transparent colored plastic, toy diamonds,
make-up of berry juices and medicines and ruby sexy neat blood on their lips.
Have seen them moving so rightly, exposing muscles of steel and plastic and rubber.
Manmade, new nature, transhuman in glory of its beauty.
They dance; they never make a wrong motion.