Cocaine Skinny

A Poem by Deirdre

Descriptions are lame.

She is cocaine skinny

With ink-stained shoulder blades

That jut like knives

Words to a song

That no longer holds a tune for her

"I'm tired of regrets"

She is nothing but regret

With enough skin and bone

To make her seem almost

Human

Skeleton eyes

That know how to see

But no longer care to

Long and thin fingers

That have forgotten

How to pick a note

Out of the elephant's skin

That instead clutch to cigarettes

And needle sticks

Ragged breath and black lungs

She is an unfortunate incident

In a series of accidents

She is a warning

She is cut too thin

There is nothing left to hold her up

They forget, the fat is necessary

Without it, the muscle falls to s**t.

© 2009 Deirdre

Author's Note

So. Um. Yeah.

I usually don't try to convey any big message with the stuff I write, but I guess I kind of did that here. I mean, I wasn't going for anything profound, and I'm not like challenging anyone here to figure out the deep secret meaning to this, cause there isn't really one. I don't know what I'm saying. I haven't slept in awhile.