she's a man-eater
and she treads over you hard.
but you get hard
in the green of her eyes
because she'll bat them when you're around
and she's batting a .303.
don't turn to her
because she'll break your face with hers
and you like her petty pretension
and her indifference.
you can pat her on her head
and say "you have a lot to learn little one"
because all she can do is yell out what she knows
and stay mum about the rest.
she'll strangle you in sleep,
while you eat the vegan substitute,
while you drink like it used to be.
she'll twist your fingers back until
and then you're hers again.
she's got power over you,
and under you,
you're over her, ontop.
and you'll thrust to the man you used to be
and will hold her close
because she'll get the best of you
and she’s the best you'll get
when you're selling yourself for chump change.
she won't change,
but you think with every afternoon spent
fogging up the window of her restaurant
and she will change you.
but you both will stay the same
for as long as the lighter fluid will last,
and you'll turn around
and the little girl you once patted on the head
will sell you for a bag of shrooms
and you'll wonder why and where
that little girl went
but neglect to notice you're not that little boy anymore
and you're worth more than chump change
and an easy fuck.
Saturday, October 28, 2006