Star Factories

Norma Jean

She had heart

She got peroxide in a bottle

Now she got secrets

There’s a dead Hollywood party and you’re invited

Make sure to wear the red satin

We’ll dance atop cars under ambiguous lights

We’ll practice asphyxiation, auto-erotic

We’ll barter dimples and dime-holes

With a chalice in each hand

As we listen to the blue-breasted robin

And the candy-colored clown

And through the foggy mist

We’ll be the first to witness

The churn and burn of the star factories

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