Unclean.
by Cynthia Jones
Never heard.
Never asked.
Ignored.
Hide the fetish
keep the mouth clean
wouldnt want to hear it
wouldnt want it seen
shame is the lie
be true to thine self-
can not control, get abused
can not relate, get accused
Like a bum on the street
dance for a cup of change
JUST a beggar's plea...
To the world... just strange
I'll drink from his bottle
his wine will keep me warm
I'll sleep in his box house
his shelter from the storm
It aint much but I'll take it
it aint nothing compared to...
like a freaking tax man
with hands already full
-always passing judgment
Copyright 2006
Labels: poetry
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I Weep..
My Love Letter.. Untold.. Perverse... Unclean.. My Sanctuary.. In The Spring..
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