deepundergroundpoetry.com

Scarlette.

Corner of Buchanan.
Hopeless romantic.
Long hair, tan skin, portable fan and
hyena eyes flarin'.
Loves to romance them.
Reckless, a fan of
heavy fucking metal.
Till the day I die,
I'll live in her fandom.

Took a right off Mulberry,
said a few "fuck Mary"s.
Touch me, love me, bear me
with a thousand things tearing.
Made a couple hip bone wishes.
Still she's clung to a man of skin, bone, and twitches.

Live our life faceless, nameless-
Loving me wasted.
Spread this disease all over town.
Name our kid Casualty,
loving you so casually-
Go ahead and kill all 300 pounds.
Cause babe I'm crazy,
barely
can see you without hearing "Pay Me".
You're my little harlot, Scarlette-
bitch give me my wallet.
Walking dead all over town,
sorry 'bout it.

And as your gold color fades,
along with your drunk cascade.
A dollar becomes a dime,
a follower becomes a client.
The dates become slower,
the rates become lower.
You'll always be a supernova,
whether or not you're stripped of your midnight toga.
and if your boyfriend's sheets dim the light,
to me- you'll always burn as bright.
you'll always be as tight.
I'll always be right.
So sorry about the fight
and about the time
I forgot to let you lead your own life.