the crafty sex of disco dance
is merely
mechanized defensiveness
manifested in sexiness.
Our generation’s attention deficit
means
we forget to question
our investment in
pregnancy prevention-
we forgo redemption
in the service of severance packages.
And then Kurt’s heart shaped box
Is filled with pavement rocks.
and then We’ve out grown
pretty pink frocks and
the dumb jock just wasn’t hot enough for us.
You raised us!
we are saucy foxes who want
the works:
The job, its perks,
a money filled
Prada purse
and we'll sure as hell work
for other jerks like us, cunts
with purpose.
whats worse,
is this purpose hurts
But we don’t hurt
Until too late
And nothing is worse
than too late.
because hurting is so sexy,
bondage is so sexy,
whips are sexy,
like x-ray (flash of feminine intuition) and
Kevlar (momma bear instinctual-ness latent in each of us)
we protect our hearts
by bruising them.
Defusing them
into misuse
as though they were bombs
and not breathing life into us.
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