There is an ****** itch
For my hips to twitch
Whenever jazz hums it's philharmonic pitch

I cry when angry
repulsive, fiery, cyan tears
that burn from within
and vision becomes nothing but fog

Painted pearls
lined up on the stage
each adorned with
their hourly wage

my existence is redundant
you could find multiples of me on any street
enclosed in overcast skin

we endorse allergy to self

your very selfish arms
both reach and retract