***
she is wearing her favorite shoes when she walks out the door. she doesn't know where she pretends to go. somewhere else. to be someone else. tonite. drinking sparklin wine. laughing with the head outside the car. speeding up into the night until she loses herself in the smeared eyeliner and in her own messy hair. she wants to go upstairs to the places she doesn't know. where a dirty dim light glow. she wants to feel like Laura Palmer. speaking backwards and crawling on the floor. she wants to get fucked up and fuck a girl and she is longing for the later undertow. for the hangover. for the coffee at the dely that taste like shit and the high hills echoing in the chilly morning.
everything but heroine.