The mask that the machine wears
by c-j-baxter
Kim Kardashian is my neighbour.
I see her every day, smiling seductively;
her curves grinning too.
She recommended some gluten-free meals,
skincare products, mobile apps, and friends.
She introduced me to her family,
and they are a lovely bunch.
I don’t know my other neighbours.
I know they are noisy, smelly,
up all hours of the night like bats.
But they haven’t been as helpful as Kim.
They’ve never entertained me for hours.
I’ve not seen their break downs, break ups,
make ups, and family meltdowns.
I’ve not seen them fucked and sucking dick
in a hotel without a worry that I was watching.
And Kim is never going to move out.
At least not until those curves stop grinning,
and she stops breaking down in front of me.
Not until she lets slip the mask that the machine wears.