I have to sell myself like a street
whore, an auctioneer
auctioning off
her
own flesh,
a steak who
knows what's at stake.
(Meet your meat, space cowboy!)
Look at this delectable specimen!
The muscle tone is a bit flabby
but the spirit is still strong!
Worn out by poverty
but well broken
to service!
A
deep
discount,
already approved,
she won't ask for more
because it might endanger
enough. She's afraid and fear
makes even the cruelest master
seem kind.
("I need some responsibility at work
since work is a substitute for
family and I'm a woman--
Oh! I can't say that here.")
Risk free, you're free to believe!
And believe me, I believe,
oh I'll believe
whatever
you
need me
to believe.
Rah rah, sis boom bah.
Team over family for
forty hours a week.
(I'll only cry in the bathroom,
I promise.)
Smile! Shake hands with shaking
hands. I can pretend to be
anything you want if it
means I can pay
the rent.
(I've faced dissolution so many
times but it never gets easier.)
I can't be myself when myself
doesn't give a damn about
their money. I'm just
here to sell
myself
like
a
street whore,
a dancing monkey,
a marionette, a tiny cog
in the infinite machine.
Dizzy. Dumbfounded. I do my best.
Believe me when I say I'm just
a whore like all the rest!
October 26, 2026
