The girl in the Black Fur Coat

Smile as wide as a sunset in the Grand Canyon,
Split from side to side like a sacrificial lamb.
Lips as red as two blood soaked rosebuds,
Smiling like a maniac and she doesn’t give a damn.
For she’s riding the wave of a high, goddam.

Eyes as bright as diamonds freshly mined and polished,
Sparkling like crystals reflecting sparks of purity.
Pupils wide, lashes like spiders in bitumen jackets,
Windows to the soul, to the heart of this lunacy,
Wearing the label of madness so well, so beautifully.

Black fur coat glistening in the light of the morning,
Though not real fur as that would be a subject taboo.
Sheen, shining, inky black softness adorning,
Someone else’s second hand castoff, can’t afford new,
Oxfam bargain, Help the Aged? She hasn’t got a clue.

Beneath the fur the flesh of nubile youth invites
The promise of sensuous moments, fleeting thrills.
Young flesh tainted by the smite of madness,
You take your chance, you screw the girl, fuck to her ills.
She parades her vulnerability like a murderer kills.

Her words, her smile, her ringing laughter, painting over
Sea worn driftwood sanity, eroded by waves of quick mind tricks.
Seeking out the thrills for the hell of it,
Drawing in the exploitative wankers and insensitive pricks.
Drawing in those who should have known better than to get their kicks.

And her fine black coat, with the beautiful sensation
Of soft, warm kisses upon her un-worshipped skin,
Like a kitten wearing the magnificent coat of a lion,
The only protection her vulnerability knows,
The only protection from the users and the abusers forcing their way in.
Like the pelt of a blood hungry trophy hunter, his senseless kill a win.

She is a giver, and she gives too much too often,
she sells her soul for a few moments of false affection.
She gives and she gives, and she gives and she gives,
And she casts aside her lying, crying coat of protection.
Her mind and heart are dying from another cruel dejection.

The doors are locked again, another grey, banal day
And the nurses and doctors are characters in a hospital drama.
The psychiatrist has sentenced her to another cocktail of drugs,
And the screaming all around her and the pain and the trauma.
She’s yelling for her daddy and crying for her mamma.

And the coat of many men is abandoned on the floor,
The cherry lips are wiped away like blood pouring down a drain,
The spark of a girl in the throes of joy has been smashed into a memory,
The heart of an innocent is protected once again.
And the girl is taking another fucking trip on the lithium train.

An end to the mental anguish and pain.
And end to the pleasures of a screwed up brain.

© Sarah Drury 2019

Published by Sarah Drury

Poet, Mother and general crazy person. Literally.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: