Dearest Reader,


My name is Margot Dylan, and I'm a pariah.

On the 16th of April, I told my mother that I was gay. She threw the clay mug that I made for her before she found out I was gay, against the floral, peeling wallpaper mess of a wall, in our kitchen. The decaffeinated peppermint green tea left a wonderful aroma that almost cleansed the room of the stench of 'lesbian'.

I met Dylan Dunham a few days after that, and, a few days later, she was the first girl that I ever loved.

Dylan wore a red flannel jacket, and was a butch and sometimes a *****-but I loved her even at her tomboy cruelest.

Dylan smoked a cigarette that smelled like lonerism, and she looked at me like she didn't care. My heart skipped a beat, as cliche as it sounds, whenever she would remove the cigarette from her mouth, exhale, and look at me as smoke traveled up her face. I looked at her and knew that she was everything that I wasn't, and everything that I wanted.

Dylan was Dianne, before and after school. Dylan was Dianne, who wore floral dresses and lipstick and who ditched her butch clothing in her locker before leaving. Dylan was Dianne, who was straight and who thought Tyler Wesson, from church, was cute. Dylan was Dianne, who had a short hair cut because of track and field, because she explained that she ran a faster time with less hair. Dylan was Dianne, who didn't associate with me before or after school because her parents knew that I was gay.

During school hours, the only thing Dylan did keep from Dianne was the lipstick. I was envious of the cigarette because of it's burgundy stains. We would stand in a stall, as she looked across from me, after each drag. She frequently offered her cigarettes, but I refused because I only let love **** me. If she ever brought alcohol, sometimes she'd kiss me. I told her that I loved her and she said, "I know."

The only thing that Dylan kept from me was my heart, before she started to smoke cigarettes in the bathroom with Annie Way.


I wish you the best moments so they can overcome the worst,

Margot Dylan

~

“Sugar Plum Fairy came and hit the streets”



Dragging the soul of a contender

who painted crooked lines and dotted futures

Spinning lies on the edges of gossamer wings,

then lickin her lips, black as night patterned velvet

while tracing underground sidewalks in glittered graffiti

and menu’d offerings


“Lookin' for soul food and a place to eat”



Digging in the pockets of her intended victims,

tossing lint to the curb in puddles of drool

Singing in a voice louder than her grumbling stomach

now exposed to the harsh winter of tomorrow

as foot soldier scarves in drab green

wrap her twisting ankles from the cold



“Went to the Apollo”



Standing in a long line for a ticket

to this sold out show, basking in the marquee lights

Collecting auditions from drifters

and finding her melody in a passing taxi,

yellow as her checkered present,

ignoring her cries to be ridden



“You should have seen him go go go”



Exhaust fumes mixed with knock off Channel #5

and scraping stiletto heels sparking on the emotions

of an ill fitting t-shirt with Lou Reed’s face stretched

to the limits of her darkly carved wild side,

she falls in line, fourth from the right

as metronome earrings sway in rhythm



“and the colored girls sing…”

Empty rooms a glance into are futures lost conviction sweetest angel of the truest flaw may I glimpse the depth none other ever did care to see?
In shared vice words hollow held you as the scars we bare forgotten to only us none should ever have to view .

Where did the glow fade to corners of such darkness we simply died as the old to become jaded as we stand shattered the shards but fragments of the past I no longer care to reflect.

Lust of the moment a need and service nothing more.
We can give all to only share with  so few and in those moments perfection is the truth as ****** up as we are .

Lines I give the flesh you lend cold as the winters imprint over the mountains peak .
Escape the moments only to relive the misery's with every  emotional fix.

You cant go through hell not to show some scars will you embrace mine as I have yours my dear?

We together hold more stories than a asylums wall.
Yet still we stand only to part.
There's no escape from the memories even down the snake of the highway to the western sunsets reprise.

Guess we just have the now so **** the past it just get in the way.

We run a train so happily heading off the rails in shared addiction my dear how I thrive in the destruction my friends I shine no matter the name it's always me.

Her love was like the purest ****** deadly but so ******* alluring and uncut in it's seduction why run when we can walk into a self destructive mess together?

Miles pass we can't deny  it's  a habit like any other late night calls and midnight meetings this stays between us right?

We know the outcome yet like fools before we tread on ground and lies created by broken souls and now scorched earth.
So ******* right in the feeling in the wrong sense .
Claw marks don't leave a bruise but make me feel alive unlike him she speaks within confines of he darkened cab.

And in hell do we find the sanctuary none others can  provide .

Were all wrong just together within a storm shelter can provide comfort even in the pure ******* of false truths and empty lies .

And the broken hearts bleed all the same .