Friday, October 19, 2007


i have the feeling
my body won't stop
shaking until i get a grasp
on where we're all going,
where it,
why it goes,
revolves into this roiling
festering mess we're in.
who use women for their simple visual
and women who wipe tears in the
back rooms
and pretend to live like
the party they appear to be,
as men come in the door -
broke, broke, mark.
broke, broke, sucker.
chalk it on their foreheads,
reach into their wallets,
and don't
take your fist out
until you come up with something.
don't give up while there's still a wallet
in the building.
men who have exhausted
the world's resources so heavily
they now rely
on buying feminine time.
who want to confess their sad, pathetic
regrets and lives and jobs,
spew them into
my half-naked lap and i'm smiling,
nodding my head and thinking
i taste bile
in my throat.
talk all you want, just reach
into your wallet, pay me for it.
you realize, you
are nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing
than the denomination you place
into my upturned palm.

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