addictions flood her veins like blood,

pumping through her heart and

out her mouth like a foghorn:

something strangely wrong and grey,

it's there but you can't see it,

lights flash as it all goes black.

--

and self-will forgotten, she runs

like the cars won't catch up with her:

smoking, she's smoking in their dust,

drinking, she's drinking in the loss,

kissing, she's kissing burned rubber.

--

and sheknows she should have made

a sign of the cross, at least pretended

jesus still watched over her bloody head:

those hands are running over more

bodies than promiscuity will allow,

and skin feels like a new obsession to her

slender fingers, smooth in the water of her tears.

--

she screams like it's pain that she wants,

tells every boy to hurt her:

she wants to be a crucifixion of bedsheets:

bleeding into his feeling fingers.

--

she watches life through a window of

addiction: everything hazes over and

she's still running behind the cars:

smoking, she's smoking in their dust,

drinking, she's drinking in the loss,

kissing, she's kissing burned rubber,

and she knows her lips will never be the same.