Angelica Bustle

Alice, Alice...

Alice, Alice,
how you doing, Alice,
screaming for release
in the corner of the streets?

But markers and opium
never did you any good,
they get inside your head
to bargain load and bread.

Whiskey and cigarettes,
the wins to all your bets,
put down your pack of cards
and lick this shaft for bars
- Count down from ten to one
there's nothing to be done
but lie upon the bed
and spread your legs instead.

They tell you how to lie
and seem like you've undied,
they don't want a still corpse
to fill them with remorse
- So cry then, pry then,
put on a little make-up,
now you're looking fine,
get dressed and here's your dime.

Alice, Alice,
whatcha doing, darling?
Selling off yourself
for brownstone, pearl and meth...

Topic(s) of this poem: addiction, alcohol, alcoholism, cigarettes, drugs, gambling, money, selling, sex, smoking

Poem Submitted: Saturday, November 21, 2020

Form: Lyric


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