Friday, January 14, 2011

once a groupie, always a groupie (XII)

keep the car running
and the windows rolled up
the cigarette butts in the empty coke can
and the key in the ignition
let the thick smoke clog up the stale air
and the syringes in the glove compartment sit

flaming pink fingernails obsessively tapping the wheel
while long, pale legs cross over each other
black, translucent dress beckoning a closer look
spoilt cherry lips popping piercing mint gum

break through the neon yellow barricade
watch the crack spread like spiderweb 'cross the windshield
say goodbye to this cruel, unforgiving world
pray to jesus that he'll make your body look sexy even in death
as the blood drips off the dashboard

for several seconds you are a bird
wind under feathers lifting you towards the sun
until you feel your stomach drop sickeningly
and you force out a laugh that sounds like a strangled cat
instead of a proud, fierce goddess








you crashed and burned, alright
but you're not a phoenix and you won't rise from the ashes to the papers
only because you're dead doesn't mean you're redeemed
it just means you're dead

you're still the crack whore your mother said you'd become
blowing talent, hoping something else besides stds would rub off
but only because you wore jesus on your necklace
doesn't mean he didn't think you were a poser anyway

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