Her decline into madness began with the
Application of a borrowed morality, with
Nymphish hearts printed naively onto the
Cocktail napkins of dark-eyed strangers
Reckless entreaties for pressed silhouettes
And somatic diversions. She lies beneath the
Hides and hollows of men discarded not simply
By their wives and children but of their will to
Aspire to any pursuit save inebriation. Showers
Do not evict vindictive inhabitants from organs
And vessels, by her own admission a whore
*
Amnesiac Goddess summoned from lecherous
Sheets into a stillborn dawn, her affectations as
Fleeting as the occupancy of whiskey-drenched
Souls horizontally possessed. The collapse of
Youth has lowered her expectations, love has
Been replaced with noxious heat, dreams with
The hysteria of 3am vigils through unmarked
Streets, beauty with experience and self-effacing
Generosity, the city as empty as the denizens shiftless
Within, she is filled with burdens and complications,
With tears that cannot be slaked or volitionally shed
*
In her apartment bitter rinds piled high, paisley-patterned
Diaries grieving, the wallpaper smells of perspiration
Victimized by a heavy right hand scrawling blistering
Hymnals, prayers and visions unanswerable by her
Devious God. She keeps the television on for company
Sometimes the actors speak to her intimately, reciting
Lists of obituaries, prey of her superstitious thoughts
How can the fate of the world rest upon her? She who
Wavers and weakens. Unpretentious in her sunlit
Conspiracies she wears a square of tinfoil in her
Frontal lobe, signals from Neptune and chronic
Insomnia have given way to postmortem nightmares
=
This is not autobiographical despite my recent difficulty with sleep haha
mindlovemisery 