Diamond dances like a drunk Marge Simpson,
yellow skinned, with long blue hair, dyed, washed in white
wine, swaying back and forth with mid-drift
eyes, like her ears are being massaged by Erykah Badu
beats, intoxicated, obese from emaciation, feasting
on Jack Daniel's feet,
a beast of beauty, in the bombardment of her provocative
promiscuousness, red party cup in her hand, in a
buckling stands, the face of Che Guevara on her shirt is
a symbol of her audaciousness, the graciousness
of her brown bennevolent eyes seen, though her young face
sags like the wax around a burning candle,
drunk because her life pilfered her self-esteem,
after a beam of manufactured hot metal made a bloody
isle of death through her mother's brain, so clean
she saw daylight exiting her mother's mouth in a beam of
light, as her face sagged,
sagged like her spaghetti arms, after she boiled cocaine in
cauldrons and built needle tip sized chambers in
her veins, and became an insanist, because she wasn't a
protagonist to the beautiful life,
yet Diamond continues to dance, fighting sadness from
the thought of her mother's death with a guile
intoxicated smile, getting touched by sex craved boys, hands in piles,
she, rushing into the bathroom, puking on her knees,
because no one is there to tell her,
"You are what your name entitles, a diamond, though now
in the rough, will soon be a ruby festering in faith's stardust"-