Friday, February 1, 2013

"Messy Girls," a poem

Cinderella is a raving
mad bitch.

She missed her stop at Fillmore
but that’s not the troubles weighing her down.

Of all the people,
of the chicks 9 to 5 like her
no chances of dreams
Shitting  the dress, spill the shooters
hairspray and mascara that run
things she swears over her dead body
could ever happen
ever after

Yeah she’s over it,
shouting to the rooftops
from bathroom mirrors
with pop songs on repeat
to affirm exalting madness
and over how skeptical she is
of every name tag
reading “Prince Charming.”

She’s just over it
the girl with the heart of gold
looking out to the foam slithering into Ocean Beach,
Cinderella thinks she’s caving in

With her favorite song in mind,
she’ll jump with fulfillment onto the back of the motorcycle
with Matt Helders.

Maybe she’ll kick the glass slipper and
don cream combat boots,
blowing that sinister kiss to the Prince.

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