X Rated
A Poem
I
Vertigo — dizziness borne out of a violet haze. The strobe lights of the nightclub are dead to the world. Bathrooms with women selling perfume, and the girls blackening their eyelashes. The girl in the stall next to me smells of blackberries. My plush leggings around my ankles, catching on my ankle bracelet. The moonstone gem reflects off the mirror, bouncing off a heart shaped rainbow.
II
Refusing to look at the camera lens, With my hands tied behind my back. Waking up in the boozy morning, With a bottle of jack full of lava lamp juice. She called them home truths, But I like to call them molecular sins.