She didn’t treat life well-
Always trying to get rid of it like a burden
Living was a loose kite
In the ownership of a person with long arms
Often times tied only to a chair or just a string around the finger.
Death called on the phone a few times;
Once I took a message-
Once I called an ambulance.
The first time we were in a McDonalds’s bathroom, down the street from my mom’s house.
A few months previous my boyfriend made the random, life affirming decision to pick up a highway hitchhiker.
The hitcher was one of those older types who surround themselves with younger types
Hoping they won’t know any better.
His name was a synonym for Paradise
I hated him immediately but he introduced us to heroin
Which we all loved immediately.
In this McDonald’s bathroom she goes out the first time
(I think her father’s friend’s fingers planted the seed this might be the better way)
From this experience she claims to learn an important lesson,
A refined approach.
She shares this with me while living under her parent’s partnership for a drug free daughter:
isolation
“Next time, don’t call for help.”
She tells me that a nurse told her this.
She continues. “I would have come out of it. The nurse told me. Calling just caused trouble. Now I’m off to rehab for months.”....
I don’t really believe this but file away this bit of information.
She’s off to where the Hills are antiseptic Silver;
The rehab has a hair salon and Edie Sedgwick’s fingerprints on the walls.
The phone rings.
It’s him again.
She must be planning these calls.
We are in bed in an incredible Manhattan townhouse.
A Lincoln town car brought us here.
Picked me up from behind the dumpster I call home.
It’s just so romantic
To be 18 years old and on your own
The most beautiful girl I ever did see
Says she wants to shock the bourgeoisie
In the town car, I put my head on her lap
And we make up songs
And we make up plans
Its time to take a stand
And now we’re in New York City
She got out of rehab last week.
Met a rich, bulimic model there named Ryan
Whose dad is CEO of a company that makes jeans for Warrior Princesses
This is Ryan’s dad’s town car; this is her money we’re spending.
Ryan’s hope is that dope will make for a great diet drug.
They’ve made a deal- Ryan won’t throw up if she won’t cut herself.
Vomiting from heroin related stomach upset is not to a deal breaker.
And needle pricks are not self mutilation.
The phone is ring ring ringing
Soon, she can’t stand up.
We’re getting skinny on hope and
Taking pictures,
waiting for Ryan to return from her therapist.
But she can’t hold the camera; it keeps dropping from her hands
The townhouse is beautiful
We’ve ordered in, pancakes and sausage.
Ryan breaks her promise and throws up before she leaves
I can’t wait to wash with the bidet
I’ve only read about such decadence.
Take my picture
It will last longer
Take my picture and treat it better than you do this
stupid life
Frame it and put it behind glass
I’ll keep it safe forever
I started asphyxiating at the age of 7
My mom wouldn’t let me have Barbie dolls so I strangled myself in the bathroom
Not sure how I discovered the pleasure
Of a necktie pulled tight
After you father’s friend and your mom’s cancer-
You went to the basement where your mom kept her chemo syringes and started drawing with your own blood.
She drops the camera and it hits me in face
I don’t feel it;
she needs to lie down.
I wish this phone would stop ringing
Your blue now but I remember
How the nurse told you to avoid trouble
That string around your finger cuts off your will to live
You’re the purplish color of a new born baby.
Ryan’s brother calls for help
We never knew he existed till that moment he did.
The most beautiful girl I ever did see
Says she wants to shock the bourgeoisie
We could never be normal
You and I
Always searching for ways to break free
Experimenting with self destruction
Our collaborative art form
Suitable for framing and
Kept safe for later
Left to speak for you now that you’re gone.
I’ve seen him.
This boy who was with you when you finally died forever
(Its been a year today)
He doesn’t know about our bond.
I know that night
Sex and kisses cigarettes burns slop head between legs on toilet head between legs
The sheets are dirty, the phone ringing, always ringing
There’s music someone told me it was Patsy Cline
He smells like body odor and beer and runs on dick endorphins
He hogs all the hope but there is just enough left for you
Later, he won’t lift a finger
He will run from the room instead.
Perhaps you told him about the nurse but I don’t think so
We’re all too old to believe anything so transparent now.
You never have friendships like you do when you’re a kid sharing lives first experiences everything is new even wanting to die
The most beautiful girl I ever did see
I have the pictures
Fiona Helmsley is a thirty- three year old momshell, navel-gazer and recovering fun slut. Her various writings can be found here and there and on her blog: http://blogs.myspace.com/fionahelmsley. She is releasing a book of true tales sometime next year. She can be contacted at fionahelmsley@yahoo.com.