Burden of the waif

Seek the posture that fits directly into the slot,
Pasteurised with the rhythm of the daily burden,
The signature of the waif is a burden,
Held down by ball marked metaphors,
Entailed and neutered,
Squealing from delights faint corners,
And begging oblivion in workload,
Masking tape torn from its original perch,
Your gums filtering the plastic mystique,
Cascades of ethereal squibs,
Popping against the fat on your thighs,
Basking glory sharks need further reminders,
Categorically aping the facts from the prism,
Total warfare,
Extreme squid attacks,
Offshore beatings escape the full grasp of the law,
You’re at home when you’re raping,
Or are you raping at home?
Does anybody mind that you…
…take others concerns into the cabinet,
Ask about your history,
The fact your father never lied,
But was always sewn lipped about,
The reasons of your downfall,
From those graceful highs,
Thos grape fed days within the lounge,
Meals,
Square and thirds,
Surpassing seconds on the meal trade,
The temper entails a pack of cards,
Demands one is chosen at random,
And when you release your nested grip
Pepper across the eyelids,
Sugar sweating from the glass jar,
Moisture positioned for breeding purposes,
You would choose an ace,
But for a man dressed the way you are,
You should have pulled a queen.

Published in the December Issue of Icefall 2007 - http://www.steelsings.com/fanzine/dec07/poetry/index.html