She Calls Her Neurosis Candy

My anxious body is the greatest whore

plucking dimes from the pockets
of strange men

...tricky

vying for an eye
or two or three

strutting down 'neath the red lights,
moves like a gypsy

Body full of sulphur,

gun powder
organs light up neon

and muscles cramp like

hot plates
shatter

Pearly whites snuffed out
by the rot,

old oyster meat gums

Who knew picking a scab
could be like sex?

There
the wound marries pleasure

in the sludge
of a back-alley meadow

and God, does it hurt

every vow, another biting
remark

Lost heroin star,
hooves on cement

I am the scar my mother was before me

Madison Victoria is a collector of omens and small trinkets and is wholly devoted to synchronicity. She often finds these in secondhand goods and fated encounters. For her, poetry is what's left of every explanation you couldn't give in time. 

Her motto: there is something special everywhere you look.