RULE #8

Cat Marnell w kolonopin wafers 2011

The water’s dark and full of sharks
That will tear flesh from the bone dear;
A kolonopin wafer will not make you safer
Which is why I for one am all alone here.
You better smarten up and start to swim
Playing dead doesn’t work.
Nor is it actually even a game.

New York is full of lies
It'ss just some lame shit

I got raped while I slept

Sluts you gotta look alive.

RULE #4

CAT MARNELL , at rock star bar

Now girls

don't get me wrong.

I give about eighteen thousand thumbs up to autoerotic asphyxiation. 
Shout out to rough sex. The richer you are the rougher they’ll choke you out, and for obvious reasons it is hard to shout out when this is happening.

 When I was getting strangled erotically by the Resoivoir at 4 am by that saucy teen millionaire no one but the raccoons we saw scuttling along Fifth Avenue on our way in could have seen his knees sexily pinning me to the floor of the pine grove at my shoulder blades.
I dunno I guess. 
 Shout out to raccoons. 
But I didn’t need saving anyway.

LESSON #1: MEET BAMBI

Cat Marnell, at home in Alphabet City

This is a guide to getting sicker and sicker and sicker, to looking so skinny and sickly and amphetamine green, then to hitting the tanning beds and the sleeping pills just enough to get pretty and tricky and mean.

When I’m “better” looking – healthier-seeming; ha -- I can get anything.

I march in with a sleep-glow and full makeup. Vicious. My bleached bulimia teeth gleam.

I’m all electric cigs and coconut.

I’ve got:
•Park Avenue fangs
•Bumble bangs
•dull green eyes that match money.

I've got coats made of bunny. I've got long human hair.
Always hunting season for Bambi. And I kill to wear.

Brad Pitt: The Poem

Brad Pitt
by Aaron Smith
With cotton candy armpits and sugary Crevices, sweat glazing your donut skin. Have you ever been fat, Brad? Have you ever wanted a Snickers More than love and lain on your bed While the phone rang and rolled one On your tongue, afraid to eat it, afraid It would make your jeans too tight? Have you Barfed, Brad, because you ate it, Ate all the take-out, licked Brown sauce off the box while you sobbed? Brad Pitt down in the pits chaining menthol Ciggys in your thick-wallet life, It’s not so bad Brad, sad Brad, is it?