Fucked. And Abandoned.
The streets are busy-
teeming with rabid consumers starving for a quick fix,
nobody came to plant the harvest
that blooms and feeds a thousand tomorrows.
Everyone wants to stuff themselves full
of whatever is convenient-
easy predators, easy preys.
And my beloved is one with the crowd,
looking for a few quick strokes,
looking for a warm body,
with a few specific parts.
My beloved doesn't want a heart with love that runs deep,
my beloved doesn't want
eyes that adore, revere,
my beloved doesn't want a soul that is surrendered to love,
my beloved wants short shorts that unzip themselves,
my beloved wants an unfaithful lover
who lies and hides to deliver a quick fuck.
My beloved.
Oh, my beloved
chooses to pour life, time and beauty down the murky drains in back alleys.
My beloved chooses to feed at the feast of misery,
my beloved offers a body to scavengers,
my beloved feasts on death.
My beloved chooses to fuck. And abandon.
My beloved is chosen to be fucked. And abandoned.
