Brooklyn Alice And The Ballad Of Bradley Cortez

Brooklyn Alice And The Ballad Of Bradley Cortez

They ride the highway, trailing sands by each mile

Alice lays her back against the car door, resting her feet on the shoulder of her lover

she burns away at her cigarette and exhales slowly

humming to the beat of the radio,

The Flying Lizards - Money plays an ironic tone, describing her bad traits of endless greed

"the best things in life are free, but you can give them to the birds and bees.."

- I want money..

she quietly sings with broken tones, as though her screams to her victims have suffered the consequence,

suddenly her mouth widens a smile

"Four civilians and 1 police officer shot dead today east of Phoenix as.."

A heavy sigh of relief blows from her nose

- For a second I thought they forgot about us

Bradley stays focused, keeping his eyes on the wind mirror of the car,

knowing that if any cops dare get in his way they'll suffer at the next few rounds of his revolver..

his sweaty hands still stained by the blood of the slavery public
dirt from his nails thicken from each ounce of sweat

his hands speak a thousand words
his scars speak a thousand more

Freedom lost all definition when laws and advertisements leaked into every concrete jungle of the world,

his ongoing speeches carry the conversation of these road trips

explaining how reality is just a concept of how a human slaves into earning a wealthy lifestyle, when realistically none of it matters when they're dead.

He just wants to end their misery sooner.

East of Phoenix was no intentional killing spree
it was just an ice cream stop turned massacre

Pulling into the petrol station Alice voices a demanding argument for cold fresh ice cream,
she struts each step as though there's a constant spotlight on her
showing no emotion, eyes hidden behind tinted black sunglasses..
she constantly presses her index finger to the centre of the framework, stopping them from lowering and exposing her identity..

She scans through each section of the cooler
a seedy old man leans an elbow to the cash machine
rubbing the sweat of his fingers to form thick black dead skin
varnished by the constant touch of dirty money..
he gazes down at her body,
a hand viciously hits the surface of the counter

- 20 Marlboro Reds, and some concentration please.. sir.
The old man shudders with fright as he's taken away from the perverse sexual desire of his daydream..
Alice takes what she needs and leaves the shop, her exit rings the bell from the top of the door
alarming the old man. Before he even gets the chance to shout at her, Bradley faces him point blank with his revolver..

This overwhelming feeling of power paces round his brain snapping him into deja vu
where from here it's all a blur, this out of body experience where he's looking at himself with the end of the gun pointing at his face
some sort of reflection in the mirror that delivers him the fear he portrays to his victims
crying inside for help, some sort of assistance

breathe

today is this old man's lucky day, or not..
an undercover cop is watching from outside the shop of the petrol station
he drops his petrol pump with shock, leaking all that's left over to rush down the slope of the floor to the shop door
a newly promoted man on the job, no partner present
dying for his shot at some action

gunshots are fired into frenzy
killing all in sight
but leaving one overweight man bleeding restlessly in a pool of his own blood
his life path limits and drops by the second, like a hole in a sandclock
the officer stands shaken at the face of his arrestee to be
ordering him to compromise and face the ground
Bradley laughs a foreign tone, as though no man has ever laughed like this before
this situation, this contagious evil laugh that you'd only witness at the dark imagination of your deepest nightmare

by the time confusion hits the officers face a bullet beats him to it
holing into the back of his head and through his skull
the officer drops to his knees and slowly falls to his back
the blood starts seeping through the lines of tiled floor to the front wheels of their car..
Alice,
another name falls victim to the hands of this brooklyn born widow
stinging away her venom into every family tree of the murdered
she blown his brain into oblivion showing no remorse
the families never forget, she forgets by the mile
her only devotion in life is herself and her partner

Her hands smoothly rub over the heated gun,
she laughs hysterically at the officer's pathetic fall
imitating his drop to death like a skeleton being dangled and dropped from standing point

She eyes the dying man and slowly steps her way over,
she talks to him about greed, about how she sees it everywhere
and how his overly large gut represented his physical greed
how greed is in everyone but his is more apparent because of his weight
her words speak soft forgiveness, but her face stays unforgiven
before ending his misery she kneels and lowers her sunglasses
her eyes are mismatched,
leaking a dark red colour from the centre hoop into the white of her left eye
eyes like this you never forget
this image is unforgettable,
he'll take this with him to the death
afterlife, reincarnation, heaven, hell or anything death brings
these eyes will haunt flashbacks for eternity
she blows him away
The Ballad Still Sings:

Bradley opens the lining of his fresh new packet of cigarettes and tears away the plastic coating.

His hands smear blood across the big bold text that reads 'Smoking kills'.
He laughs once again whilst slowly ripping around the front of the packet, placing it over the lifeless officer.

Sparking his cigarette his mind plays away at his sick jokes, flicking his cigarette into the running leak of petrol
fire spreads as the flames arise to the handle of the shop door,
burning away all evidence in its path

Flames create continuous clouds of ongoing smoke
the victims souls swirl and stir in the distance
infecting the essence of fresh air with tainted black clouds


Alice tongues a slow lick to the centre of her ice cream,
her lips follow the edges
she throws away the remains as she saviours what could be her last taste of satisfaction
the danger of getting wanted and living free pays serious consequences
knowing each taste, breath or smoke could be the very taste
its unpredictability feeds away at their excitement
two valiant lovers turn vultures
defecting themselves from the slavery of normality
into this bizarre mentality that they're living the true meaning of the word freedom

how long will this ballad sing their song?