O living arms wrapped around my middle, tending
continue, please, if you will and
tip my chair. spill that wine, the flask is near empty.
bare witness, please if you will to
the power of batteries, two to impregnate
a torpedo, bullet-shaped and
humming a mile a minute. two until
the wax drips, until i drip
and scream, squeal, palsy, trip like a trick in heels
roaming back alleys in fishnets and cheap velvet.
be a doll, please, if you will
and hold it steady, make it ready, place it in the right spot;
the batteries won't last all night, the chair won't tip forever
the red stares of candles will soften, a whore's heels could break
any second. hurry! someone's knocking at the door.
Harping in Apt. 7H
Me First by Raud A Kennedy
Working in the dark,
Replacing metal valves by touch
That aren't broken,
A snake oil job scamming my brother.
Blisters ripped by truth
Building calluses against honesty.
- Youth of a Nation