that's you, not enough
my broken tooth
you'd think joy
would glide alongside
truth
instead, happiness' bastard child
strolls wild with commerce
and they tell me to move on
and prove i'm gone
they tell me with wide grins,
winks, gestures and pins
drunken, slobbery passes
that lose their molasses in a rush
and you just begin to feel,
taste, smell and gush
ugliness
and oh, the depths
how very unappealing
all that work
revealing
all the sacrifice
all the kneeling
no sorry's,
the only glory that's stuck
with me for weeks
is a line,
whispered by an
old, blind gentleman:
"i was only free
when i was in love."
and that i better be willing
to steal, cheat, lie and deny myself
to hold a man down
that i better catch the light the right way
that i better wake up looking lovely
that i better calm down
that i better not shake the ground
that i better not point out elephants in small rooms
that i better not crawl toward the fever
because then
i will not receive anything
from the weaver
i look in the mirror and neglect the griever
and when my hope is the
only part of me that is awake
i elope with myself on tippy-toes
and i blurt out a stern "no."
no, to your conditions
fuck you to those conditions
fuck sitting around and wishing
and that's me, too much
© Copyright Miss Carly Marie 2008-2012
