How old are you anyway?
I'm thinkin' I'm
A hunnert and five, my last birthday.
Well well, they say--
With they fingers together, steepled up;
You ain't exactly young.
You ain't no fresh pup.
Some things are ridiculous on their face--
Old women in love,
Poodle dogs who dance in place.
Listen mister, I said--
Have you ever kissed a bullet?
Or left yourself for dead?
Because I have.
And when you kiss what kills you,
It's some kind of
Deep blue voodoo--
I dare you to tell me that I lie.
Tucked under a crow's wing,
I left that place.
It was ridiculous on its face,
And now the branch burns under me when I sing.
I kiss another woman if I want to,
And I stand where I need to be.
I wear a gris-gris made from wolf's hearts--
They don't live long,
Thank you to Hedgewitch for letting me use her gris-gris. Thank you to Coal Black for spiritual assistance.
Photograph: Sharon Stone in The Quick And The Dead