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Poem
She was a tiny angel of a woman
mindlessly moving, in a chemical faze
her heart baracaded, tormented
from her long, lonely days 
while dancing on the edge of a pin.

Dreaming images with her feet, twirling
oblivious on a pole, 
trying to live a shoddy role
stripped of dignity, ripped of grace
imposed upon her lifeless soul
 
Her teardrops falling, slowly slipping,
silently dripping, leaving behind 
their clear, salty trace 
as they slide down her cheeks, 
like icy blue, watery veins
on her tear, stained face

She dances mindlessly
from one seedy cloud to another
in faded memories blurred by her past 
Through hazy, watery depths she bleeds
tying to quench a thirst so deep
in her hemorrhaged, sedated heart,
so worn, so  torn, 
by her dreams that did not last               
 
As she slides down the pole~
she floats in a hazy, igneous swirl
of aqueous diluted anesthesia.
Demons eat and devour through
her darkened descent of amnesia

Painful depths that turn and twist
in her hazy, muddled reality
of unspeakable memories
that cannot exist,
lest they drive her deeper....
to a shattered demise 
 
Her childhood dreams 
stripped cruelly of their parts, 
allowing her mind to wander
in an unconscious state of grace
from hungry teeth marks
left on her innocent, delicate skin
 
Cheap neon lights bathed
the trashy, shoddy floors
that smell of stale cigarettes
and booze in seedy, darkened bars 
Dangerous, dingy, low rent neighborhoods,
leased by lurking, slovenly men
who try and grope her every move.
 
She sits on a bar stool
sipping amber, colored water
from a dirty, shot glass
waiting for drunk, greasy men
to approach, handing her
their rumpled, grimy cash.
 
Two dollars a dance~
to the tune of one weary, old song.
Or ten dollars an hour
to some bleary eyed man
for an endless moment
she'll dutifully belong.
 
Shadowy features, biting at her heels
Unnamed creatures
gripping, ripping her heart
into clawed, broken shreds of steel
from many wounds that cannot heal

One sad morning, 
the headlines of the daily news
printed one more obituary
of a life badly abused.

Her parents were sent
a note from the club
 that said:
 
"Your daughter used to work here,
        will you please stop by....
     and pick up her clothes and shoes?"
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