The Showgirl’s Fantasy: Put me, Will You?
No age limited to be part of this directing team.
Lined up by the altars ledge, decorated for a parade.
I will be the beauty queen.
Put me in a film.
Taking a picture of me by the gas pumps across the street,
Young and confused,
Scuffing dirt off my white high heel Mary Jane shoes.
I am munching on raisins by the shade.
See through my fragility and escort me.
Take my hand and throw me back on the stage.
Drown me in the lake of people under it.
By the light of radiance produced by algae
Hidden under your pink rocks you will see
How tempting I could be.
Paint a portrait of me,
A still frame out of a dirty picture show
Where you peeled off my foggy brights from my body,
The vehicle and car of what I bring out into the world,
In which, as you know, is empty and less than kindling.
Yes, I am its mother.
I have always been my deeds doer.
You touch me with drugged cheers to graze electrified skin.
Cover the cameras.
You caress my sweetness,
Feathers of my loins and cups,
Prisms for the fountains of youth.
You enjoy my breasts taking
Taking time to see the buds blossom from the flowery seeds.
Yes, I am the mother and the enjoyer as you sprout like a weed
I am unaware, asleep in my hazy day dream
Being used, but relishing in this victory.
I conquered.
Opened my legs.
Piercing veils of dusty blue, you prince.
Film me.
In this slumber there is not much left to do.
I become hellish.
Rise as the record button is pressed.
Catch me and tie me to the film.
You are my casting crew.
I would have to be undressed and my hair combed.
You are in the shot,
Red eyed gargoyle with a hat of sorcery as it ought to be
Resting upon your head as you loom above me.
Your bare skinned grin is almost relatable
As your cheeks turn scarlet.
Yes, I became the mother.
I am star, a star, I shine and a kiss or four
To seal my record deal through the moans
Of your incursion.
Thick and heavy with the smell of pool sticks,
Mingling among the heads of fish, the people’s gleaming eyes.
Be precise and evade the cores of this truth.
Vanishing under the grass blades of these lies,
Take me.
Paste me to a film as you grasp my thigh.
I am the queen of crimson robes
Dancing now in my blood.
Lights dimming making my sun to a bar glassed moon.
I am a mountain shrinking to the sky,
Transporting itself through the universe,
Bare back am I.
Persuade me to be on top.
I twist your limbs and break off.
I am a branch.
Put me in a movie.
I have come and lost myself in you.
No age limited to be part of this directing team.
Lined up by the altars ledge, decorated for a parade.
I will be the beauty queen.
Put me in a film.
Taking a picture of me by the gas pumps across the street,
Young and confused,
Scuffing dirt off my white high heel Mary Jane shoes.
I am munching on raisins by the shade.
See through my fragility and escort me.
Take my hand and throw me back on the stage.
Drown me in the lake of people under it.
By the light of radiance produced by algae
Hidden under your pink rocks you will see
How tempting I could be.
Paint a portrait of me,
A still frame out of a dirty picture show
Where you peeled off my foggy brights from my body,
The vehicle and car of what I bring out into the world,
In which, as you know, is empty and less than kindling.
Yes, I am its mother.
I have always been my deeds doer.
You touch me with drugged cheers to graze electrified skin.
Cover the cameras.
You caress my sweetness,
Feathers of my loins and cups,
Prisms for the fountains of youth.
You enjoy my breasts taking
Taking time to see the buds blossom from the flowery seeds.
Yes, I am the mother and the enjoyer as you sprout like a weed
I am unaware, asleep in my hazy day dream
Being used, but relishing in this victory.
I conquered.
Opened my legs.
Piercing veils of dusty blue, you prince.
Film me.
In this slumber there is not much left to do.
I become hellish.
Rise as the record button is pressed.
Catch me and tie me to the film.
You are my casting crew.
I would have to be undressed and my hair combed.
You are in the shot,
Red eyed gargoyle with a hat of sorcery as it ought to be
Resting upon your head as you loom above me.
Your bare skinned grin is almost relatable
As your cheeks turn scarlet.
Yes, I became the mother.
I am star, a star, I shine and a kiss or four
To seal my record deal through the moans
Of your incursion.
Thick and heavy with the smell of pool sticks,
Mingling among the heads of fish, the people’s gleaming eyes.
Be precise and evade the cores of this truth.
Vanishing under the grass blades of these lies,
Take me.
Paste me to a film as you grasp my thigh.
I am the queen of crimson robes
Dancing now in my blood.
Lights dimming making my sun to a bar glassed moon.
I am a mountain shrinking to the sky,
Transporting itself through the universe,
Bare back am I.
Persuade me to be on top.
I twist your limbs and break off.
I am a branch.
Put me in a movie.
I have come and lost myself in you.
