Vogue/ A Poem

I recently released a poetry collection with Alien Buddha Press. Vogue is a prose poem from the collection ❤

They said, “Sweetie, what do you want to be?”/I said I wanted to be a writer, a goddess on the silver screen/A name they would never forget/What I didn’t count on was their reluctance to grant my wishes/I am twenty-four/No news reporter is knocking on my door/I brush stars on my eyelashes/I practise my speech in the mirror/For when I win the Pulitzer/What will I wear?/I finger the fabric on the clothes rail/Mauve, velvet and pale/Cheeks flushed in symmetry/I’ll accept my award under a strawberry moon/My speech is folded into an origami crane/Tucked into my lace hold-ups/Along with a packet of Marlboros/My glass topped up with Barolo/Teeth painted blackberry/On the drive home, I swerve into the oncoming lane/My agent asks “What the hell are you doing? Are you insane?!”/Our lives flashed before us in monochrome/They’ll find him soon/Maggots will be crawling from his wounds/It won’t be pretty/The stench will be repugnant/Tendrils of his flesh will hang from the rafters/This is my fantasy/Nobody knows my name/They don’t care to know/It’s my job to end the laughter/I will never be in Vogue Magazine/That’s a pipe dream/My lips stay inked/I remain cufflinked/To pay the price of fame/One of us must suffer extraordinary pain/My metamorphic dream is blemished with well-chewed tobacco/A streaky ambrose that lingers on the cusp of execution