What I have done for fame-
Allegedly.
Has killed every
Love I couldn’t kindle,
Every abject quick start flame,
Where in history is this applause-
The closest sound the ocean
Crashing while he tells me
"Life goes on, babe.”
Life goes on but bends
For ruined people.
For ruined skin.
It warps and clings to time
And space blurs into an endless
Where am I.
Where am I.
And how did I get here.
Here to fame,
Here’s to the glory of a soiled name
They called me
The Girl Who Cried “Help”-
My own city a green bruise
Too pale to stand up against
Paparazzi flash.
The ocean echoes that shutter.
“Life goes on, babe.”
But life goes on crooked,
It doesn’t set right,
You can see the scars down the quarter of the sky
Virgo cries in.
Life goes on but so does the knife
Plunged into other girls,
In other times,
The crime scenes tripping me with raised chalk lines,
I’d need a bulldozer to get through.
Do you hear the way Washington turns?
The filing, the red over caution tape?
Did you see the way my neighbors pointed
At the width of my mouth,
Appointed a watch dog to keep track
Of its surroundings?
My only question is,
With my sacrificial starlet name,
What debasement justifies,
Glorifies,
Canonizes his own fame?
Allegedly, I mean.
Of course.
