I want to catch the moonlight before it touches your face. To paint my own light on your skin.
Dissociate A frame of Movie Star light bulbs encircles the pink tinted mirror placed inside the overly crowded dressing room. Marie picks up the paint, her foundation, and plasters it over her face covering every mark and crack. Next she finds the brightest red on the table and smears it where the cheekbones her mother gave her used to stand out like apples. Marie’s face is gaunt and she does not resemble the girl that her mother gave to the world. A black pen marks up her eyes to circle the holes that wish they no longer had the ability to see leering men grabbing at her ass or the bills she can no longer pay. The only thing those eyes can see are the bills she picks up from the ground. “Marie! You’re on in 10! Remember to pay attention to the man in the Hawaiian shirt dead center. You can only fuck up someone’s birthday so many years in a row. Charlie, a veteran of war and also a veteran customer at The White Rabbit Strip club, always snubs his way out of the bill every time it’...
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