we plug them in
like dime store mathmaticians
like gap tooth fools
we give of ourselves
step up to the plate
pick our lucky seven
and hope that the return
exceeds the price.
will you love me?
let me fuck up and heal and be human?
will you lay me down in a bed of stars
in sheets of dawn and dusk
will we walk together on a road outside of time
and not need words?
love is this ratty haired hustler
streetcorner card game jesus
pay your dollar
find the lady
play or be played.
i have resigned myself to cynicism.
And it makes my heart hurt.