Candy Cigarette
A memoir for the down trodden, to the ill forgotten:
Drift a mile in worn hauls, become her problems
Be the barefooted strange girl on a cruise ship
Apple bottom, candy cigarette, her nude lips
Shirt soaked suction tight, clung to perfect body
Provoking your silent awakening, pop a molly
Sail. Over a full moon glowing underwater
Below a sky befallen, darkened for the hour
Floating November misery in seas of lemon light
Swallowing the sun because it stolen the night
Be you. Changed to never trust yourself
Because a mile in you will never trust yourself
Don't judge her, until you lived her book
The cover is girl, and the material is rook
Be you girl interrupted. All pumped full of lead
Swimming with sharks in her head
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What is public must be legit, fit for average consumption, don't forget. What is private is handled by pirates, prying loose profits from prosthetics. To tell the difference between: first remain unseen with a steady breath and hope, then listen to the cracks in the wall with a stethoscope.
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