I'll have a hard time forgiving
The Art Students who were
marinated in cynicism
And left to bake in the hot sun
With brown sugar
sliding down their throats
Who speak only the language
of French
And the language
of Artistic *** and Textiles
And
of course
The boys with the floppy hair
Who **** vinegar into scratched up sinks
And snorted ******* off of the eyelashes
of diet-coke-head-high-school girls
Who grew up
Grew their hair
And let their cheeks sink like ships
Into the cluttered caverns of their mouths
These girls are always wide-awake
and fast-asleep
And they never get drunk off of
incandescent light
And never remember to turn off
the tap before they go to sleep
But not in their beds
'Cus their heads
told their necks
They didn't need the support