LADY GODIVA: The Naked Truth

We all have that artifact buried deep in our closet,                 That object we refuse to look at or throw away. We all struggle for a the moment at the mic,                 Then once it’s thrust in our face, we’ve got nothing to say. We all look down on the downtrodden, such a slob get a job chase that coin                 But homelessness is the new country club we all join.                                 (and it’s free to get in) We all: ignore our sins, forget our blessings, count our problems—a bitch can’t solve ‘em?  Think you ought to back that track up and re-revolve ‘em. A ghe...

A quick suicide with a two-sided razor, If I added my blood—it’s just for flavor. I watched over her like a worried mother, Surveyed  her surrender to a Soma Coma And I would never judge her because I understand her disease and her need To escape from this quality of life & this cost of ‘living’ And the erroneous tee-vees that act like it’s reality they’re giving. Her head, It starts to nod. Her words, Get blurred and she starts to sob, Over how she needs to get a job. & I think that it’s odd that her head starts to bob And she looks less like hippie and more like odd. I’m indentured. Should not have ventured this far from home. Sadly comprehending                 I’m better off alone.