I used to think & say Lindsay Lohan was Natalie Wood & James Dean rolled into one but she's more like Sal Mineo;
Rebel w/o a cause is a criminal, I thought
she was a poet like Taylor Momson as
beautiful as a car bomb in running mascara paint scars; I listened to the music, it was painful; I used to think Lindsay Lohan
was beautiful, my Lois Lane
always in trouble but there was no Superman
for Amanda Bynes when she fell out the window
b/c no one uses the word defenestrate
just her coke dealer on the corner, the Lou Reed wanna-be
if she's lucky the ghost of Ricky Little
coming up from the basement wearing her old sundress;
this happens all of the time,
it's ******* psychedelic; there's always a boy in love standing at the picket fence; he can't take his eyes off Tony, I mean Lindsay;
Joey Ramone loudly creams for her;
her Mean Girls character now a ghost
on Broadway dreaming of money, furs & crown jewels,
she is the opposite
of who she is in the mirror; running
through concrete Lebanon hallways  
her muddy wet footsteps
headed out to the trailer park's flooded backyard
when the summer swelled the Mississippi
& the devil caught her in the mire,
it happens every time & she still
uses the outhouse down there; I won't tell her secrets;
I swear that girl is possessed & her mother
is a twin symbiotic ghoul
sadly the money bubbles up
from her mother's evergreen blonde bush blazing in the Zionist heat of the California hills