Death in Hollywood
Sitting among glamour
I am drenched in layers of grit
between my fingers and teeth
Today I feel beyond ordinary...
Cusping on life;
lusting at death
(well not really)
death is nothing but a figment
of reality, remote, and twisted in pixels.
I cannot see it, but only remainders of it
What it looks like with its clothes on inside out:
Masquerading, but never in the nude.
pieces of paper, drawn up, delineated.
will handle the lives we've made for ourselves
When even we cannot handle them anymore
When we are finally left alone.
To be nothing more than what is already there.
or brought together as some want to see it
In truth it is only death that drives.
that makes opening our eyes at all meaningful
laying next to another seem different from laying inside God
So I sit among the most glamorous of soon to be corpses
Enjoying the ride of zesty decay.
Meaghan is a freelance writer and poet. Born in New York, she is now
living in the Arizona desert. She currently writes for a newspaper by
day, though her real passion lies in writing poetry as well as
painting. She was the recipient of the 2004 Stan Rice Poetry Prize and
is working on a self-published collection of poems and paintings to
appear in 2007.
© 2005 Underground Voices