little girl wants to climb mountAins
     as high as the pitch produced
         when she arches back her back
     and lets herself be taken care of
  all the strains and pains of her human remains gone, never to be thought of again


the kind of high that pours out of her.
commercial golden drugs created for
pleasure,
never to be measured
by those who'd prefer to use her like a tap
clackitty clack
the better me is not for the likes of you to touch, hands are not yours to unclasp

receive her willing kindness
and beware men who would strip it away
forget about modern daily pressure
let your problems wash astray
in the sea that has become
the only home for someone so gray