the socialite

she smells of Yardley
and broken dreams
of stale Sundays
and old Jim Beams
of mascara tears
and trophy smiles
of botox rears
and chipped nail files
of flashbulb wrinkles
and derby catwalks
of dollar note crinkles
and Gucci talks
of public loves
and private cries
of page 3 wows
and the perfect disguise.

ram cobain