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