“This way, star! Look this way! A smile, a wave for your fans!”
Clammy gelled hair bristling
The limo doors swing shut and pin-up smile that kills a thousand hearts crashes
pink lips hide the hundred-watt-million-dollar teeth and voice
One time, they told me to follow my dreams and like a fool I bought into it and wandered onto the boulevard
Just another lie they fatten us with
And my eyes fill with tears and my wounds gape open
Raw flesh and blood dripping in steady streams
I curl up on the branded leather rocking back and forth, back and forth, mind spinning in circles, the car, the road, the city of lights and glamour and stars and camera spinning, spinning, spinning out of control
Blurred lines like dragons and snakes and ropes binding me- help! I scream- help!- tearing
Further into my flesh, my blood- help!
The car suddenly back in focus and it stops and I lie shivering and pale and sweating, skin coated with gel-like clamminess
Screams of girls from today’s concert, so much meaningless roaring in my ears as I rock myself into a frenzy, pounding drums and distorted guitar and sparks
Screams, more screams as I let the venom work its way out of my mind
For that moment, I am King.
I am on top of the world.
More man than any of them, hiding behind their shimmering computers and stupid usernames and f*cked up twisted minds
I WON, you m************s,I won, I beat you all, calling me names and sneering and the middle finger and
I collapse into gelatinous sobs, car bent out of shape, like a boomerang, an elastic band twanged, about to smack me in the face
And nameless faceless faces, wolves and demons, and flashing lights and screams of girls
But the wolves will seize me!- help!I cry- reaching out- help! Somebody help me!
But only more photoshoots and training
Voice like a four year old girl’s
And smiling and training
You know, star, your voice really is high
And I turn and pick up a glass and smash, smash it into the paparazzi’s face
Teeth like fangs and smile like a crocodile’s
The car stops.
“Everything alright, sir?” asks the chauffeur.
“Fine,” I reply, barely knowing what I’m doing. “Fine, fine, fine,” I say.
The car lurches back into motion
Snapshots of me as a baby
Without a thousand-watt smile
And the hours with the guitar and then- comets and stars and I soar high and I BEAT YOU!
I BEAT YOU!
Oh, but they got me
They got me in the end.
Hiding behind their shimmering screens, comfortable in their self-righteousness
In their oh I know so much
Oh look I understand so much
Oh look I’m so much better because oh look I’m so clever
Oh look I’m so fashionably cynical with my god-given right to look down on and sneer at the world
Oh look my vision like a f*cking pinhole camera experience stops at computer screen and already master of the world
Bullying is wrong but oh look I rape a boy and a writer on a daily basis and that’s alright, because
Oh look I’m so much better
I BEAT YOU! I scream, spit and tears slamming into the blacked-out glass
The black city seeps by
And shuddering, I lie down.
The only sound the thud. thud. thudding of my heart
“I beat you,” I whisper, shaking on the floor.
Punishment for following and living my dreams
“I won,” I spit.
Purgatory sinking like black ink over me
Feel the venom icing its sting through my veins
But I’m so tired, mom.
I’m too tired to fight back.
I can feel their repulsive laughter, their maddened glee in the pain- but where is the pain?
liquid blackness drifting down, coating my tears
A dimly- remembered promise under the mistletoe
“Promise me you’ll never give up- promise me you’ll never let them win!”
But I’m so tired, mom. And they’re so strong.
Years of being raped, mom. Far, far too long.
Car. and road. And quiet room. And bed.
They lied, mom.
Silence, and photographs, and magazines, and guitar.
I can’t pull anymore, mom.
Cool steel, and lights, and enticing whisper.
This will all be over, mom.
A maddened white face looking back in the mirror.
a) This is a BLOG. Therefore expression of opinions is not only allowed but kind of the main purpose. However if your opinion is, shall we say, forcefully verbal, you better not resent the slashing that will undoubtedly follow. But I’m mostly a Buddhist and I don’t like wars. AT ALL. So let’s keep the love okay. MUAH ❤
b) yes I know I use the image of slashed bleeding a lot, also one of rape and behind both lie perfectly sound and more or less sane reasons (which I shall not put down in here because then you’ll probably think I’m a psychopath. Which you may already do. But that’s another matter.)
c) Now that you’re done reading, guess who the poem is about. There’s a chance you’ll get it in 2.5 seconds. Good for you.
d) Okay that’s it now just enjoy the feeling the poem left behind. Or, you know. MUAHAHAHA.