She has hair that glows neon In the midnight chill of the mind. It blacks out her face from memory Like the lace of a Wedding veil dream catcher Spun like spider silk To bind her blind.
And she wears polka-dotted Cigarette scars on painted, Sallow, yellowed skin, And her heart is made of patchwork, Some pieces lovingly stitched, Some loose, Some worn, Some dotted with blood from Hazy misaimed needles.
She’s swathed in Virginia silk, A feast for the eyes, A feast for the moths, And as gauzy as Bandages, as gauzy as The swirling darkness of her mind As it whispers Frightening, beautiful thoughts From behind her button-black eyes.
She needs mending, she says, Needle against her skin and Eyes shining like marbles. She needs loving, she says, Stuffing herself with OxyContin Laced with lies like the lace of a Wedding veil dreamcatcher Spun like spider silk To bind her blind.