she rockets 2 ruins
on dope-filled cheroots
n' shirks in the belfry
of her snow-crusted leather boots
grinning vacant in the artic bloom
of her unconscious, midnight solace room
where it may blow up a gale
with sunny tears ripping through the vale
of her rancid, tranced sleeping stare.

with a clunk and a cripple
or a crash and a smack
a grown up baby doin' a stack of thwack
legs uplifted point to little unpainted toes
and chipped up heels like waxy cheese wheels
that scan the wall for a fun new floor
while her contour drops hands with time and melts
ahead of her,
highness enhanced by upside downess
hit like deep a rushing throbbing heady pelt

i hope they don't think that's me


p: who? the 'she' with the rancid tranced stare?

d: yes. it is this girl i watched round at someone's flat recently.

whispering wisdom through purgatory trees
she purees her collagen to a weeping cheek
and wrecked like the mirror
her youth come loosened tooth,
as hurled across the room
such just, benign canine whores
fix and pour over remnants
combing tragic the rug.

oh oh lil' girl oh no...
oh oh lil' un go home.