Sweet Pea Girl

Like Rosalind Bowers
Who brought Durrant flowers
She prefers those
Down with the clown clothes.
The killers incurable,
Whoever reminds her of a criminal
Like Bundy, Gacy, or Béla Kiss.
Don't risk being one to dismiss
Her among the groupies
What she is
Is priced above rubies.
 
Walks up to a boy,
And asks him so coy,
"Sugar, you like violence?"
And his reply:  silence.
But if he answered right,
"Let's spread some red tonight."
She'd be so happy to hear
Starts screaming,
"Baby, take me right here!"
 
Enriqueta Martí to Charles Ng
She's into everything.
Her first star wish
To paddle Albert Fish.
She's a tight rope walker
In love with the Night Stalker.
Imagines a lovely September
With Edmund Kemper;
They'll settle on a Penny Lane
For the insane,
Under cobalt skies
Where suburban eyes
Refuse to realize
Her finger pies
Are made with human flesh
Fresh from the crèche.
 
Razor wire switchblade serenade
Drinks the tears her heroes made,
And oh the bullets she swallows
For the gods she follows
Into paradise lost
On an inverted cross.
Her blood is cold enough to frost.
And nothing can degauss
The VHS in her head
Replayed in bed
Dreaming up sexual affairs
Beyond compare
With the world's nightmares.
 
Like Doreen
She's never seen
A sign of evil
Just a chance at reprieval
Confronting the loneliness haunting
An inescapable void so daunting
Her heart strings tie to a soul
Who might make her whole.
Warped?  Perhaps that's true,
Yet isn't all love a little folie à deux?