Poem – Page 73 – A (wise) man of two faces

Ladylike

You fucked me over
with sultry looks, wanton lips,
and your clothes still on.

Dim and dirty lights,
prone to flickering frights,
serve as ghastly gardening tools
for growing gaunt and corporate ghouls.

This bed is too cold –
I stretch as far as I can
but do not feel you.

The sterile gray walls
of empty, echoing halls
and cubes to hold the worker drones
while “self-made” princes sit on thrones.

My lips have been seals
for sinister secrets and
bitter, screaming souls.

When the rain poured down,
I gave you my umbrella
and you walked away.

Hooters
Dirty pillows
Glorious full-blown curves
Her magnificent mammaries
Bosom

You should sleep with me –
how else do you expect to
warm this frigid bed.

I will
tear off your clothes,
touch you, taste you, tease you,
and coax you toward a screaming
climax.

My haunted blue eyes
hide secrets that easily
could destroy your life.