My dresses hang uninspired by the bones that I think can pathetically prove me sexy. I am the poor bridesmaid, the confidante men reveal their uninhibited cocks to for when they want to get to the centerspreads. Mind as well go out tonight- Winter Moon is cracking smiles. If I never come home, no one would really notice - maybe the guy I buy my herbal smoothie from once a week - well the bill collectors and the grouchy editors, although then the editors wouldn't have to part with the checks I probably claim too much for.
Actually my darling NicNeven, sweet Nevvie, would weep my absence, for else would there be for her to scooch up into and purr away her daily philosophies? Nevvie would have to find a way out of the apartment, then hunt for food...Poor girl would remain stuck, rely on an occasional roach, and then...And no one could ever understand and honor her like I do, cherish her stature and respect her magick.
In her ancestors' time, how would I have fared? When rule lay at the queen's fingers and courtesans flaunted about, would my bed sleep one?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment