All pink-lipped and smokey-eyed, all rabbit in headlights, she
Spills blood-cells and secrets on the sheets, her heart splits,
Crumbles like an old lipstick as he forces her Lolita skirts above
Her thighs; she's camellia-tinted and painted and pinched into pop-
Culture pieces of princess.
Choke on a mist of Dior in a room you don't know anymore,
Just like Alice, gone fragile and fairy-bone thin in a keyhole
That leads to a Garden of Sin; through the looking-glass
Mirror smeared scarlet with drugstore amour.
Swept up in her lace-trimmed fantasies, feet cut up,
Glass-slippers stomped into champagne-flute
shards; lungs full of bubbles and Vera Wang scent,
She's all spent, but she'll use herself up 'til they
Bleed her, suck her dry, all that
Bitter blue blood in the mouths of the masses.