not your bitch

we wandered through peep shows, all with a glass floor
pulled down our skirts for the pervs looking up
we got used to the shame, this tedious chore
like our golden coffers were made to corrupt

we ground their laurel wreaths to brew bitter tea
and claimed the remains to make new storied crowns
we were the stars of their voyeuristic spree
carousing soma of feminal renown

we were prostrate matriarchs with pride intact
and their fire loins only provoked us all
we were by far the best, putting on an act
to tempt them and fool them, to give them blue balls

 

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2019