happy go lucky slut

 

it’s pretty obvious; that I am being jerked around
incomplete personified in an empty parched void
rambling on as the rabble-rousers succeeds
in gaining sympathy while I am scrapped and feed on scraps —
I am not a marionette of maternity or paternity blues
I do not menstruate or ejaculate to toss and turn in fetid sleep
while you, an interloper, a declared outside-sheep prey on
wolves and grass and get away sheepishly into some day or night
or fray and I pray to God Almighty for a save because it is excruciatingly,
lucidly simple that I wish to tear the throats of all the so-called clean I had
for when it so clean it shines and blinds and then no one puts you on a chair
you are a deemed ascetic and put on a stool so that you can put on crap and
pleasantly smile into an abyss solidly crafted as a wall and a hard place; rocks
substituted teeth of yours that you gnash in an accumulated pattern on passive-aggression.

I do not lie, I was happy to help, to love, to hug —
but you made it less by taking the notice of it as a half-full, half-empty gesture…▬

Speak yer mind

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