Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Slut Snore Metaphor

Sleep-
a two-dollar whore looking for her next fix.  
She crawls in bed with me
wriggles herself between my ears
mumbles in her hardnock voice
singing her own praise for her many talents-
her 50-cent blowjobs
and buck-fifty quickies against the brick wall
just outside the back door of the pool bar on her corner.
She settles on my ear lobes
tries to shove my hand into her panties-
a freebie with the promise of a dreammaker space opera. 
Sleep. 
Hell no, she ain’t a tease. 
She ain’t got nothing I want. 
A bleached rainbow and sandpaper tigers
won’t even scrub her off.
A gift that grows a nightmare
A song-scraping chalkboard
digging her hardknock finger
in that spot behind my ear.
“Sleep, little funky angel.
Sleep, if you can,
while I hump your angel wings
like a bitch in heat.
Sleep, if you can,
little buttercup devil,
while I shove my sugar
in your buttercup nose.”
I give up.
The sleep slut wins. 
I sleep not.   

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4 comments:

  1. The sleep slut wins...this is mega metaphor! I have this rather odd image of angels' wings being humped stuck in my head now...wait till the responding poem blossoms!

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  2. ha. wow. i really like the italicized section, a taunting little song itself...some nice sounds in this too...the chalkboard...eeeekkk....ha....

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  3. Is she singing to you? I don't know why I'm asking that...

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