"e d i e"

I'm a mess. I know it.
Should I call you?
And cry to you, and tell you my fears?
Do you care to understand my heart?
My thoughts blur, become foggy
And I don't know what to believe, anymore.
Should I chase my dreams?
Artificial fruitful dreams...
and risk it all?
What exactly is it that I'm risking, again?

It's 2:48 AM, and sleep is immune
But this is nothing new, I wish it were, I truly do.

And if I break, will I feel better?
Will I ever feel fucking better?

"Just be yourself." he said.
And with a smile I asked "which one?"

Which one will suit you best?
Perhaps my face?-- a sweet taste for when you swallow me whole.
If not, my legs?-- to help you stand as I take the fall.

Oh, love, I am but
A clip from one of your films
A muse
A rage
A trend
A waste

As your daughter
As your sister
As your lover
As your friend

I'm just a card
Upon your table of aluminum and ashes

And if I had a choice
If my say had any count--
I'd still choose to die young
For this much like passion of art I know,

"You live alone, creating your life as you go."


>> Note: 
I just finished watching the documentary film Factory Girl, and already Edie Sedgwick has inspired a few pages of writing. She was just phenomenal. There's no question as to why she was such a muse of Andy Warhol's, and an inspiration to Bob Dylan. It's a shame how sadly her life ended, but the legacy she left behind is evermore. This pack and glass are for you, dearest Edie.