Two hundred dollars and then the king�s men

His horses, an hourly rate

A cheap disguise

Ripped fishnets and

Chipping hoop earnings

But more oh so much more

The seeking of solace in my bosom

Misery for misery

And still I go

Into the rain, sleet, snow

More faithful than the mailman

Don�t judge

Don�t you dare

It�s rent

And everybody has to make it

Label me

Silly thing with names used for handmaids in the old days

Label me

Foolish girls

And still they come

To have me listen

To see my mouth form that curious O

As if I am surprised to find them there

To see my gloss smear against my cheek

My hair matted

Strange rooms

Decorated by republicans

Odd rooms

Reeking of musk and mold

In the dark I change

My wings are made of chains

And none see them but me

I feel them drag the hall

As I approach the door and

Start the same tired banter

Misery for misery

Two hundred dollars

The going rate for flesh

This is the end of us all

And I feel numb

-adipose

http://adipose.diaryland.com