Distant footsteps trodding through a suburban graveyard.
The Black Dahlia reposes silently
pondering the moment with a carved grin.
A tan La Salle pulled up that morning
when she lost her heartbeat.
More distant footsteps in the hills of disease and disillusion.
Can you discern what has been and what will be?
Look to the east and see a face coming through the mist,
seeking a sword.
Are you not tired of all this?
Do you not seek death secretly?
Put the key in the ignition
the streets burn for our presence
like a naked lover spread under stained sheets at twilight.
More stiff corpses in the alleyways
wasted for the big party that has yet to begin.
What is life but one more glance downward
with tilted head and screaming thoughts.
Are you not ready for a change?
Do you not seek just one moment of peace?
Raging rapsters cry to the starry heights
looking for a taste of neon nirvana.
Adolescents in tight skirts
with button nipples bulging
seek desperate embraces in the shadows.
Solstice burning like a madman with dagger at midnight.
The cool tombs of eternity await the doleful dirge.
"Can you hear it, honey?"
"Put out the lights now."
The Black Dahlia needs her beauty sleep.