“Correction procedures were never meant to heal — only to display.”
— Extract, Failed Clinic Sermons
The scalpel hums like prayer,
hands carving permanence into your skin.
Beauty injected as saline,
hope kneaded under bruised flesh.
Fillers bloom in your cheeks,
petals of silicone
masking the hollow collapse beneath.
The watcher records angles,
lights calibrated to hide the sutures.
You smile like you were designed to —
teeth tight, lips taut,
a success story stapled to the bone.
Inside, tissue whispers infection.
Outside, you gleam.
A wound rebranded as wellness.
[Addendum: Patient’s grin persisted post-collapse.]
Recorded as functional correction.
Deviation rate: negligible.
Applause archived.
Recovered from surgical waste unit, sutures unravelling under frost.