I could enjoy going mad
Smilingly sliding into my immoral pit
With each slice of sanity disappearing
Another care
My hair
Filthy and shameless
I’d eat shit and spit
Out the bits, which, for whatever reason,
Displease my madness.
I’d wear my skirt so short
And my stockings would be wrecked with holes, some hopefully stitched
Stares as I stumble, mindless and happy
Down the street, are distorted in my madness and perceived as desire
My twisted red lips promise something other than decency
‘I wouldn’t mind having sex in a toilet’ they say
‘smeared with other people’
Some dirty, drunk stranger would suit my demeanor now
And we’ll fall out of our cubicle with a post coital can of tenants to share
But not our names.
Or I could call myself Sue
I could quite enjoy going mad.
You?
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