What is the Recipe for True Love’s Kiss?
Does it require an exaggerated smooch?
Or a lot of tongue?
Is it a brief peck on the lips?
Or a passionate embrace
That is only separated by
Prying the two lovers apart?
Considering that many kisses
Said to come from true love
Occur when the woman
Is unconscious and presumed
To be dead,
I would say that it
Snow White was never kissed.
The men carrying her glass coffin
Tripped over a root and happened
To dislodge the poisoned apple
From her delicate throat.
Sleeping Beauty bore twins
Who grew next to her
Stagnant body and
Eventually plucked the splinter
Of the spindle from under
Her long nails.
They kissed me, too, while
I was under some
Kind of intoxication.
Still not sure if it was induced by
A gallon of alcohol or
A teaspoon of a drug.
I must not have
Appeared dead enough
What kind of incidental action
Must occur to take me
Out of this dark slumber?
Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall
Who’s the fairest of them all?
I know it isn’t me, at least not tonight.
My sweatshirt is baggy and my jeans aren’t that tight.
Later they’ll ask me, “What did you wear?”
As if I’d actually done my make-up and hair.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall who’s the fairest of them all?
One beer, one shot, I’ll be just fine.
Make sure to watch this drink of mine.
One cigarette and I’ll be right back.
Only one, I promise, it’s the last in my pack.
Rimror, Rimror, wall on the Fairest who’s them all?
Hurry quick grab the salt, the demons are here, line the door,
They are banging on walls looking for the whore.
They held me on a bed in a room, please,
Don’t let them in.
Mirror, oh mirror, why’d you let them in?
I hid under the bed, just like you said.
I held my breath and faked dead
With the demons there I thought it was hell
And my prince he isn’t fairing so well.
Mirror, mirror, what did you do?
They threw him off of the balcony
And knees are now in the middle of his thighs.
I tried to call my fairy godmother but the line was cut.
They stole my cell phone and now I’m stuck.
The seven dwarves can’t help me
Their badges mean too much.
The bite marks aren’t evidence apparently
And I wouldn’t let the doctor touch.
Mirror, mirror, am I still the fairest of them all?
My skin may not be porcelain anymore, but if it is, it’s cracked.
My cheeks aren’t rosy they’re as white as these walls.
And as for my hair, my soul has turned just as black.
Mirror, mirror, if I ever escape, know that I will be
Looking for you to show you how painful it is to break.