With a little bit of bleach and a rounded xss
they think they can be Marilyn Monroe
but never strive high enough to **** a JFK,
instead they're down on their knees for a Trump
refreshing their Instagram.

Your Marilyn Monroe face is coating me in nostalgia.

There's old school Hollywood appeal about you that's keeping me still and set in my ways, because how could I be mobile looking at the iconic images of you?

For you gave me refuge from my purgatory, I'm stuck here in my bedroom, your scenes each carefully curated by Billy Wilder or God...

I've heard you're a dying breed but you're so full of life and charisma.

Oh, I know it's hopeless,
But it's been remastered time and again,
1080p being the latest format to get my heart racing,
Letting your DVD spin to the point of exhaustion.

It's very consequential and I'm still betting on this,
I can't take your word as gospel when I feel you in my ribs...

I'm painfully asthmatic and respiring on your sighs.

It's 12:03am on a Tuesday morning
And all I can think about
Is what it would be like,
If I were Marilyn Monroe,
And you were JFK.
If we were closeted lovers,
Or one-time pleasure seekers.
If you were a *******;
If I were a *** symbol.
If we could be anything more than
Friends.
Acquaintances.
Strangers...
It's 12:07am and you're probably sleeping,
Arms wrapped around your Jackie O.
And I know I keep saying
I don't need you,
But this ceiling fan is ****** company,
And ****, do I want you.

They call me 'fake',
Apparently too genuine for the masses to believe,
They grasp at any weapon,
To muddy the waters & deceive,

The Bible speaks of money,
And the lust it can incite,
They claw, destroy, froth at the mouth,
Morning, noon, & night.

How sad they cannot see,
More beauty in a single feather, fallen leaf upon the ground,
Simple treasures God created,
Worth more than any gemstone to be found.

Botox, fake *****, make-up by the gallon,
Ken & Barbie look-a-likes,
No thanks,
I'll take Marilyn & Jimmy Fallon.

Give me laugh lines, stories shared,
Later round a campfire, retold,
Calloused hands, scars, crevices,
Like vintage books,
Weather-worn, faded, old.

Nothing did we bring with us,
Nothing will we take,
Except our memories, cherished moments,
God's love, His promise,
His children, He will not forsake.

I'm just a simple artist,
Girl next door, no frills or bling,
Time, thoughtfulness, care, will win me over,
Surely not any earthly thing.

Point your fingers,
Kick dirt in my eyes,
The light within will stream through,
Despite all your vicious lies.

God is with me,
Whom shall I fear?
In time, He'll right all the wrongs,
I am his daughter,
Held precious, close, & dear.

The darkness came only to destroy,
But the light will forever prevail,
Jesus extends His hand upon a ship of gold,
Step on,
A new life...set sail.

Love is rare.
Life is strange.
Nothing lasts & people change.
~ Marilyn Monroe~

Oh Marilyn Monroe,
you were married to the stage show.
The baggage you carried made you run from home,
into the arms of Joe DiMaggio.

How could they of known?
The demons in your mind,
hidden inside the beauty that you portrayed on the outside.

They say revenge is dish best served cold,
but some like it hot.

Oh Marilyn,
you must of forgot.

Manson's singing soaking them with
the silken sound of ***
His throat tearing with sweat and
blood
The way you'd like your
fabric skin torn
away
As he pours a flood of
need down your
throat and
legs
You want to beg for
mercy and more
Beg until your body is sore
with the pill of a breath
The sound of his pain
makes you feel bereft
and touched
too much
not
enough
don't
stop

His voice grabs the audience's crotch
Be obsene

"Light a candle for the sinners"
"Light a fire"

You could burn a country with this audience's
desire

Manson is ******* them.
And they ******* love it.

she said she’d wait forever
so she took the pills and
chased them down with fine wine,
picked up the phone
and waited till the end
for you to pick up the line.

was it selfish?
was it romantic?
was it kind?

she was a ******* come to life,
she would have been such a prize.
a hand on the curve of her hip-
you couldn’t handle it.

there were
grainy photos of you both,
some fancy motel
maybe by the name of
the shangri-la.

there are moments you can see
just how deep her sadness stretched
inside of her,
just how deep her need stretched
inside of her,
for you.

there are state of the unions
adresses and inaugural china.
long lasting feasts.
she might as well have just been
the lady hiding in the cake,
the lady singing you to sleep.
everybody’s *******
could’ve been a reality
for you.

she said she’d wait forever
and you probably passed it off as histrionics.
and maybe you couldn’t live
with that sort of guilt.

she said she’d wait forever
so she did.
she picked up the phone,
pills and fine wine.
waited for you in this world
and ready to wait until the end of time.