off the cuff, after Precious

when your eyelids start to close

i begin to think that

you'd be better off dead.

but probably

that faint smell of roses

that you leave in your wake

is a clear indication

that something stickier

is on the loose,

that

something runnier

something funnier

something sunnier

something that sins and gins more

something that blings and wins more

something that shiny new things more

something that wines and dines more

something that holds open the door

something that fucks on the floor

something that eats my roar

something that chews my lore

something that sucks my whore

and sucks and sucks until i'm so(a)r(e)

-ing

that's what I want.

and THAT is what I'm ready for.