A blank and cold face speckled with the filth of poverty
Ordainments it’s neck with blue opal chokers, hiding vampire freckles.
Silver strands straought together and tied by old turquoise lace ribbons, knot down her pale ribbed back
Her spinal cord has hidden twists that crack when she pauses to breathe.
She’s a somber, not sober rebel… but she’s no ice queen…
Sick laughs attack everyone in the way of her fun
She ruins the candy man’s day’s labor…
Knocking over his aged cart stand;
And the edible art that tastes of the past, culture, and stale sand…
His pained face erased from her mind as she chased after the insatiable joys and tagged along at the heels of beautiful boys;
Always almost catching the snow plow truck,
But being caught in the glorious after wave of blow the blew over her.
The twirl wind of euphoria that unhushed the senses,
Leaving whispers to rupture her breaths:
Cocaine nose, her fear of becoming homeless herself came true;
She lives the colorful life of the penniless and abused...
And assists in the candy decorating.