I Arrive In My Voice
Hello, my dear.
You look like cut glass tonight.
You smell like gasoline.
I love it when you smell like gasoline.
Hello, baby.
Are we still married
to our own self-destructive
self-regard?
Hello, child,
can we still talk on occasion
without starting a five
alarm fire?
Hello, precious.
Tell me you’re tired
of being admired
for being a liar.
Hello, my dear,
I find you simply
irresistible when you’re
combustible as this.
Hello, future blaze.
You remind me of Corvettes
and Tab and glossy magazines
Love it when you smell like gasoline.
Horror Sleaze Trash 