She wondered the lonely sodden city streets,
the evening’s vain festivities now done.
Light caught in a pool of vomit casts her face
sneering at her doppelganger below,
distorted by chunks of innards and bile.
So elegantly made up was her visage
turned vile and curdled in the mirage.
Her designer dress was fine and lavish
an Armani singlet now torn and ravaged.
Now tired by her grotesque reflection,
she continues her weak ankled stumbles
into the night, numbed from ten WKDs.
Cocaine still present on her credit card.
A black Honda pulls up beside her – “Get inâ€Â
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