PAD #23: For "It Girls" (Women in the spotlight)

When our pain becomes so good to others, that it eclipses our true purpose...

The masses will worship us
with fawning gazes and saccharine praise.
We are most beautiful when we are
broken.
Brilliant when the pain sings
the ballad of a betrayed heart.
Our struggle is a splendid wine,
sipped slowly.
Savored between lips
that eclipse all truth and spin
us as fantasy.
Our flesh and blood is not
sexy enough for real life.

It's the price we pay
for being ingenious.
Goddesses beaming upon
the poor souls too blighted
in their ignorance.
Indifferent to the blows dealt,
to shape these Earthen vessels of desire.
Enamored with our grace
reaped through suffering
that births humility.
Finding our witticism sparkling
Never understanding the edge
has been honed by our inability to cry anymore.
So we laugh and make light of life.
It's too hard to weep, when water
is bought at such a high cost.

We accessorize agony
with charming smiles and wicked stilettos.
Strut with burdens balanced
on our supple spines.
Align our shoulders with the stars
and wear the shimmer casually.
Only a diva could be so carefree
with worry eating at the wounds.
Encircling our womb like a granite fist.
We spit gravel on mics,
and you call it shine.

Our love is a cage of azure peacock feathers.
Fury a forked tongue shrew
french kissing your soul.
We make heartbreak look gorgeous
decored in bloody velvet and lace.
Convince you the reason
you are here is to receive.
But we are possessing your minds
and spirits as collateral.
Profiting from your pathetic attempts
to gate us with expectations.
Of course you dream of us.
Sirens stealing your heartbeat.
Words tongue tripping each
vertebrae until you call ours names in the dark.
We saw you cum when we were not there.

Tasting your oily adoration.
You attempted to mask the musk
of your jealously.
Deliberately, we fuck with you.
Each stanza carves at your mind.
The prose penetrates your private
places.
This violation is good to you.
The way you wish your idolatry were good to us.
When you applaud our pain.
Ignore the pleas for compassion.
Disregard our humanity and sup
from the table of our damnation.
Our troubles delight you,
and you snap your fingers and demand more.

We are the word whores.
Place pennies in our pussies
and it will produce rainbows.
Wrap you in golden swaths of light.
Transcend you, and for a moment
you rest in nirvana.
Mary Magdalene of the moment.
The "It Girl" radiant, in your
narrow spotlight.
We make you clap for it.
Yearn for it.
Spend five bucks every night for it.
Bankrupt your brains for it.
Our head game is Freudian mixed
with Nietzschean.

How else can we serve you?

When the moon blows out and the stardust settles
We are a fragment of that ethereal being
Women of fragile bone, and resilient heart
Wanting nothing but our voices
and to be accepted as

Ourselves.