its nice to be in shape
buffed up
in mannequin world

ive frequented gyms
for years
i like nice bodies

to often though
thats where nice
stops
while
nomadic
cliques
of
self admiring gym gods
squeeze out their last
leg press
bench press
laughing
slappin five
indulging
in the theater of
acoustic grunts
a public exhibition
of self aggrandizement
while the lost
uninitiated
look on
progress-less
who fear being objectified
while obsessed
objectify themselves

they
wana be icons too
magnets of adoration
unable to imagine
that their imagine-less
waxed bleached buffed
and mute
muzzled
by group think

desolated hungry women
terrified
by the direct approach
in avoidance
of the blood hot glance
liking to believe its their mind
that should excite
testosterone soaked men

these young women
pretending not to care
and show their
come **** me daddy
tears of desire
dreaming of the one
turning down the fleshy offerings
of Aphrodite
with eyes that say
i don't think so
for fear of being called a *****
in Mannequin World

You could’ve tasted like heaven
How would I know,
I’m going to hell?

I’m quite sure my hands would love to crawl,
Over your soft skin
I’m quite sure I would love to sniff,
Your silky long hair
I’m quite sure my arms would love to wrap,
Itself around your body

By the burning lamp,
I’m taking advantage over you, sweat running;
You, moaning, knowing nobody would hear
Piercing your nails at my back, with rage and fear

Your clothes torn to pieces,
Caused by resisting me
Your body tattooed with bruises,
Caused by my too-firm grip
Your addictive breath
That goes through my throat and lungs

You could’ve tasted like heaven
How would I know,
I’m going to hell?