I told him it was Misty Edgewood,
he laughed and called it perfect, and it was,
but my 15 minutes of radio wave fame
were over in 10 or 12, and Victor knew it.
I’m a black hole absorbing nothing,
sucking in void and formless thought,
a sort of individual consciousness
in a collective co-op world.
I eat too many tic tacs,
and drink too much tequila,
counting on the phentermine to work
when the valium doesn’t, and
thankful that the tic tacs don’t
change a thing, really.
They give me bright orange breath
to laugh in bright orange giggles,
and shout, “Hey, I’m Misty Edgewood and
we’ll be right back after I make this man
wish he never knew me…listen!”
The phentermine makes your urine
smell like vinegar, and your mouth
taste like cotton feels, and your heart
race like hummingbird wings…
It's flirty and fresh and overwhelming –
so...could you hand me that bottle of lorazepam?
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