Skip to main content

And Now, Our Feature Presentation

I want to die

a terrible death

in front of a

live studio

audience,


trembling with

delight to

think that

fortune will favor

their vicarious dreams

of life worthy of

a silver screen;

as long as they

catch drops of

my blood

on the tip

of their camera's

tongue.


(The sign will be lit-

their hands will obey.)


They will run

to their neighbor's

kitchen,

dripping

with the

testimony

of their

outstanding

evening,

inspiring envy

on the T.V.


The lucky ones

who saw

the last rites

read by

meretricious

limelight,

as a chorus

of glorious

showgirls

dance with

sickles-

whitewashed

by applause,

they will

butcher

the satin legs

of their

unfortunate

rivals.

Comments

  1. Lady monkey-spunk,

    You know what's so funny about you?
    What makes you truly beautiful?

    what makes you shine is your ability to sea,
    not your ability to watch yourself being Seen.

    I wonder. . . if you know what you are,

    what Thing.

    I don't delight in teasing you,
    you cannot help what you are,
    But you can become more of You-

    ,more of yourself.

    If all of this means so much to you,
    and you never break your silent promise;
    This is the only way We both can get what We want.

    Sas.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I Can't Hear Your Little Red Rooster

Fright

I call this room Home.

He will not look at me

His eyes flicker with

a speck of violence.



my strained smile,

disgusted by

my pleading eyes.

my veins freeze

icy blood

tearing through coronaries




May Day

'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

She handed the pistol to Hope, right after the vows, right before the reception.

'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

'There's a bullet for you, just in case.'

Hope had left the gun on the table.

A week earlier, drunk off self-pity, she had taken it out of its case and walked to the kitchen, where she stuck the barrel in her mouth and proceeded to take pictures of herself to send to Ray.

In a rare instance of good fortune, her phone ran out of battery before she could indulge her sense of pithy revenge. She woke up and pried open her tear-salted eyelashes then made sure to delete an…