boys

watching pretty pictures
as she’s slipping backwards
and there’s guilt like fat dripping
on her kitchen floor
but still no forgiving
the clock is still ticking
“good morning america
goodmorningamerica”

he follows the line &
the shade of her cheeks.
with latitudes in his mind
and lion on his lips
he maps out her skin
like she is his atlas & queen.
his smile is that
of a presenter.

his hands speak of possessions
and her eyes speak of passions.
he laugh-tracks as
her mouth begs no
as if she hasn’t spent her life
with the exact same word on her lips
& why should now matter?
she’s brought it on herself.

she avoids the macabre like the plague
and knows nothing about mythology
& every time
selling herself
gets
a little easier

boys will be boys
& i watch
pretty untouched
- boys will be boys -
(i’m not even good enough for rape)

a/n: i worked a little harder on this one with the vocab…i really wanted it to be tangible; the atlas, the tv flickering in the background, the stove and the kitchen tiles…hmmm. maybe i’ll rework it, because in essence the concept isn’t too bad, and i think it could work better than this. let me know.