Chop Shop

We live in

Or should I say

I , selfishly

Live in a world

Where words

Will get you inside

The panties of counterfeit whores

Who draw Halos

With their fingers

Over their head

And as quickly

As their backs

Meet dirty bedroom sheets

Pulled to their chin

Ask you

Is this real?

What we have

I mean

And in your head

You’re thinking

Pfffff, damn right

But both heads

Came

To the same conclusion

And if you want

The sexual intrusions

To continue

Much like you’d like

This conversation to end

You say

Yes

Not even thinking twice

Because lies

Which have become

Second nature to you

Is your first instinct

Until she says

I’m late

And now your mind

Once crowded

With swift fabrications

And no I didn’t mean it like that

Misrepresentations

Baby’s I don’t know her

And that bitch lying’s

Swear’s on my mother

Ask anybody’s,

Grows desolate

It’s far past plan B

And requiems

For countless unborn seeds

This shit is far

From a dream

Parked next to fetal nightmares

You respond

Not with words

But a

Blank stare