she was a zombie whore, 5 dollars at the door. she’d bash her face into the wall to get that taste from her mouth. all the demon boys loved to use and abuse her. her short skirt couldn’t conceal her hurt, rotting green skin was just a beginning. her cheek was gray and decayed. she’d snort coke from six dollar bills, the ones with george w. on them. she met him once and sucked his cock- it was under a grandfather clock. afterwards, they prayed that all the aliens would go away but they knew that god was on their side. they’d blow those gypsy bastards away with their bombs and machine guns, bringing democracy to third world planets like artificial angels. her tears dropped like arcane oases; she was a mother theresa of the dead. flowers sprouted from her palms, sylvan stigmata for all the martyrs. she shopped in walmart and had a heart made of cotton candy- it replaced that old rotten box she’d had. they took her picture for a few bucks, wearing chuck taylor all-stars and holding a nunchuck under her arm.