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By darwin Date: 2006 Oct 20 Comment on this Work [[2006.10.20.15.00.28647]] |
| fuck. really,it's about tits and ass, and all other things that have been plastic wrapped, store bought with a clearance tag on it. maybe after taxes, because march can't come quickly enough. her skirts too high, and his hands on her thigh, but does it matter? it's about sex baby it's about you and me. she flirts with you from the glossy pages of the freshly killed mag as it sits on a scuffed up veneered stand, innocent enough. it's about hustler and the hustle, about the survival instinct. whether you open your legs to survive, or just show a little booty for someone to get a free ride. maybe if you bend over and take it like a (wo)man, get a little cash for later that night. catch that train tomorrow, because you can never run to far. no matter how much you try to pretty it up with lip gloss, and cover-up, you can't cover up, stains like that don't hide. they spill when you lose your lunch, in the words your mouth can't say. it's in the veins on your forhead, that feral look in your eyes. it's just that man, fuck. |