So this is what it comes down toTwo 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
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