A forlorn commitment to Love the hopeless, he professed.
A bored genius for conversation on buses, nonetheless. A lazy prowess for ******* over wine, he confessed. An active disregard for the niceties of manners, he admitted. An inexhaustible hunger for the laughter of women, even addicted. An total infatuation with being on time, he submitted. The delicate moment before saying... No. Good riddance. The lonely ****** of telling someone... Just Go. Pure insistence. The immense satisfaction of asking... So..? Without quittance. When everything is expected, accepted and not referred to. When payment is not questioned or one doesn't even care if it's True. When one is singular in particular, never one of ANY few. Then one is Posh, one is spreading the the Word - he averred. Then one is not messing or guessing, one has matured - he assured. Then commendably, one genuinely, never, doesn't ever give a ****!
Not so many Posh Nicks around these days...
You're either rich or ****** Or privileged enough To be ****** by the rich Medical bills Car insurance Groceries Utilities Student loans ******* that nobody can afford Yet everybody pays for Because this is America And we need to have it all In America I'm ****** Because I'm not a millionaire And that's the kind of salary you need In order to survive
i have cravings for you
midday, i make my trip from my brooklyn brownstone to purchase you, a woman with a chip in her tooth and a painted-lip manicure hands you to me i treasure you, feel your weight between thumb and forefinger, stashed in my bones like the ocean you were born from i hold your on my way outside, look down the street in awe because in this city everything shines and when you peel back the layers of skin it's curious, what a mistake a body could make
— The End —