A necklace of crystallised vomit
The perfume of sweat
She lies on the kitchen floor
Already dressed
...
Sitting, in the velvet armchair
Her wrists placed on each of the arm rests
Her spine sinking into the cushions
...
Who could have foreseen this
maybe I could
yet some things are not meant to be changed
we are cannot hold blame
...
Clubber
A necklace of crystallised vomit
The perfume of sweat
She lies on the kitchen floor
Already dressed
Waiting, waiting for the knock
Of a friend or lover
To share her drunken night with
Falling in the gutter
She lies on the kitchen floor
Only twenty-three
Wondering what happened
How did this come to be