Sunday, February 15, 2009

vena, interrupted

when you take off
your lashes,
watch the glitter
float gently to
the porcelain,
watch your cheeks
wash down
the drain,
rub lips raw
to concede,
wigs long since
gone and
bobbys still jutting
from your head,
no fishnets or
stilettos or
satin to shield,
when the applause
dies and
the plush red velvet
curtains you in
what do you become?



  1. Sweaty and maybe a little stinky. But still high from an applause.

    Adrenaline is my favorite drug.

  2. Mmmmm.....Oh, Vena. I've taken your advice on slapping men as hard as I can across the face. It's a wonderful rush.


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