Janice Looks In the Mirror
Janice’s Looks in the Mirror
Like a pendulum from an orange clockwork
The agent high above on raucous prayers
She hung high and dry suspended in drought
Resembling a shot of liquid poppies injected
The heroine succumbed in Noah’s wet arch
Until finally she could walk on fantasy’s water
Imagined ecstasy popped upon gold in her veins
Liberation caressed her intimate secrets and she
Flung all caution to the winds of magic divined
When polychrome voices touched upon fear
Cacophonous vision stuttered to muttering halt
Janice’s yoyo lost all its thread and arrested
Once more as she touched moribund oblivion
She had desired to be a delirious trapeze artist
But now she performed like a poodle in Pavlov’s
Circus faltering in murky saliva of human condition
Or maybe a train driver yet there was no light in
The tunnel other than of a high-speed oncoming train
A doctor a lawyer or professor of ancient dreams
Or an archaeologist unearthing sunken promises
Her pendulum pivoted on the Universe out of kilter
Axis and atlas creaked a bottle neck with axes to sever
Severe delirium sprung onto sewers of foul tasting grime
The heated spoon and the plunger ready for shooting
Yet there was no more drug in her pockets of gloom
One more shot to relieve the despair and her out and
Alone but two out of three was simply not good enough
The prophecy had abandoned its call and in one
Lucid moment she wished she had paid more
Attention to chemistry classes in highest of learning
Now with her school uniform exchanged for sparse
Clothing with a push up bra lifting sagging delusion
Skinned and skimmed in torn knickers less wholesome
Than the hole presenting her shaved frontal pelvic mount
She begged for a punter or two if they must to save her
Pushing and pulling she wished for tarantula’s sting
To enter its venomous oracle into any available orifice
Wide open her soul had closed over a penultimate punt
When she begged for mercy almighty and the street corner
Seeded its pollen in the hollow of her once physical beauty
She lay bruised and battered as the last open vessel under
Her tongue felt the cold of a shooter with the trigger un-cocked
Happiness unfolded more than a warm gun as she exploded
Janice had become free after vigorous mortis was splashed
All over her bloody knickers as her mirror shattered the fall
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