Youth.

She put the tiny piece of paper on her tongue
it will all be so different someday
less painful, less ugly
and she waited looking in the mirror at perfect eyeliner, black along the rim
perfect skin that would erupt a week later from the strychnine after effects
If she could escape from the fear of everything
the fear that her head would never be quite right
She thought how hard it was to hide it all
to pretend it never truly happened
the shame of all of it
She just kept hiding
hiding behind a hateful mouth full of shit
she could surely dish it out
she learned from the best I guess
the world became liquid and the water came from the tap in a soapy soft envelope
she wondered if they were all the same
did they all have things they couldn't tell
she walked down the stair into a room full of pretenders hiding behind blotter and alcohol and pot
and she was there
a blond lion dancing, laughing, she didn't hurt right then
she was the perfect acid flower opening to the song
her mother was gone and she was hidden
under a mop of crimped hair and and stoned eyelashes
her hair was stripped of color, mimicking Robert Smith if his sadness lived on the sunny
California shore
and she twirled to the sounds in a Gothic inspired snake dance that enchanted me
I think she is a dream
or a a ghost, a child robbed, and she talks about the back yard and Californian dreams
lost memories for now
lost mothers
It didn't seem right
he hung from the timber, the rafters holding a willow thin boy, hair stringy, straight
pants pegged tight at the ankles, drunken mania swinging like a monkey
he was the hyperactive fire, we were all fueled on his pain, maybe not, that was my thought
we tipped back 40 ouncers
washing the tightness of lsd cheeks tight and uncomfortable
but we were all so beautiful
we drew rainbows on lined paper and talked about music
sparks flew from our fingers
and he told us the story of the girl he loved most
and he couldn't get over her, she was from a good family
I was jealous
I wanted to be adored the most, my vanity always got the best of me
my vanity kept me from jumping
I think it kept us all from jumping, caught between Youth and adulthood
that confusing crack that teens live in
the tight place that makes or breaks kids, the place between the road and the church where
kool aid wine coolers make your stomach churn
the place that makes you lay on the sidewalk at two am in a puddle of puke in a pretty dress
the blotter was escape and drunk was normal