I am a French horn, a bottle neckless hourglass and butterscotch tape

You're a red harp with veins painted on the side

When I come home, you see me as an acrylic heap with chips of lead and belly aching homing words

Scotch sticks and smoke smells and the stitches are uncomfortable on my neck where you often warm your hands

I am a masquerade of shellfish clamoring on about the epitome of burlesque humor

You’re alien to anything other than sourdough and design

I have structured my thesis around burlesque and you fail to see the humor

When I fear the apologists

You fear the escapists

I am the tigers of the world, borrowing viciousness

You’re a long pause, loved and disquieted, painting my stripes as veins

I’m freaked out now because the apologists are escaping and the escapists are apologizing

At this clear impasse, you pity and press on until my fingers at the French horn drain to my sides

I am an island in a puddle of sand

Has democracy irretrievably gone to the dogs?
Every beast congregates here; coyotes to  hogs!
Supposedly most selfless of acts
Cover up the worst and the inept.
Crocodile tears apart, they hanker only for populist tag!

Chanel No.5 fills the air.
My bleary eyes make out the outlines of a stage.
I catch sight of athletic contours of her body, gold dust covered skin shimmering under a flood of exclusivity.
Chic, Elegant with a touch of class.
All senses awakened by her salacious seductive moves.
Tassels and feathers add to sensual illusion and my eagle eyes are transfixed on her snake like movements.
Sugar **** takes centre stage!

His eyes,a colder mint blue than you could imagine.
Her hair a darker colour than her soul.
When they collide,
sparks fly,
and they discontinue existence.
She shines when he stares,
He floats the way she falls.
They are so backwards but they're going in the right direction.

She walked through the throngs of dancers
They looked like in their drinks they’d found answers

A young girl yelled her over and bought her a drink
Sometimes the job was hard but everyone had their financier

They took a picture and she left to get dressed
Shading, contouring, hair curlers, and glitter were her enhancers

She stood at the edge of the stage and heard her intro play,
As they shouted her name, she realized that this profession wasn’t a cancer.

And though it was a hard life, she loved every moment,
They kissed her hand and clapped with joy, and there she found her answers.

Baby-dolled eyes,
and glamor velvet
encircles
with a cruel femininity;

the darkest pin-up
of your
diamond-dazzled
dreams always takes
it up a notch!

It’s all burlesque
and whispers
when you come into her
world of mirrored
desire that
plays just behind
her lips;

that dances just behind
her rhinestone mask.

The vampiress of
merlot, cigarettes,
and lace
always remembers
her prey;
a black-widow’s
striptease, cold
and calculated.

Again, she delights
in the fact
that she has broken
another man
she invited
in to her ruthless
masquerade.