Happy Valentine's Day!

Chapter 4: The Stargirl

my dearest dirk,

i have a list of
a list of names of men that we'd swindle
scratching painted walls
we were screaming
the nightclubs we got in
with these men's hundred bills
he was hittin' you
and you,
you are
the star, girl

you're the center of attraction
the center of attention
you're a girl like no other
i guess you could say you're not like the other girls
she was there from the first summer to the last winter 
she witnessed the evolution 
she witnessed every monarch
and she witnessed every goddamn war 
anna saw the pope and priest
she saw them give the sermons in the morning

she saw what they did when the door's with a rosary
she saw the devil inside the holy men 
their lust and desire to ruin a young man’s childhood 
the holy men smoked and drank liquor 
they bent their god’s rules and they made themselves the epitomy of hypocrisy
anna stood there, watching, dying
seeing the priest and the pope break their god’s commandments
she saw the boy’s world crumble 
and she uttered not a single world to stop the priest’s monstrosity 

she cared too much
i think that's her weakness
she saw the pastor of a small village 
he smiled and waved to every old ladies 
he was god’s messenger in their eyes 
but the truth remained a secret 
the truth is, he’s exactly the opposite of angelic 
he prayed to god before he ate his lunch 
he prayed to satan before he had an affair with a 15-year-old girl
and when his actions bore a fruit,

he gaslighted her
pushed her to the brink of depression
the girl was a strong as an ox
but unfortunate events are unstoppable
so she suffered a not-so-mysterious death
with the pastor's sin in her womb
this will live forever in her mind
and this news shall fly
to the pastor's wife
and his favorite kids

we stayed in clubs
seduced the pastors
and bought them drinks with cyanide
we were wearing our red dress
red lipstick
and our hair was in the 50s
when their cells stopped using oxygen
which led them to their death,
we carried them to the car
hopefully, no one's watching the stars

drove to the mountain
we're off to the races
my high heels' off
my gloves' on
your shovel's full of dirt
and the hems of your dress had blood
we dug deep,
tossed their body
and fainted near that site
"god! what a sight!"

dramatic
but we're ecstatic
when should we do this again?
should we meet up in the same mountain?
or should we let the priests choose
when and
where they would like to be buried
because
i have a list of
a list of names of men that we'd murder

forever yours,
fitzgerald atwood montgomery