Generic ink wasted away
on such a dreary farce
Your creation, a grab bag
of lies and turmoil all a
result of a decaying promise
unkept, unswept debris
spills onto a vintage neon
sign with your image arcing,
from excitement of its
own reflection
In walks a pair of pretty
pink panties with
matching lipstick, fishnets
in white polishing her vanity,
making believe it was her
in that magazine, in your
head the one with the
glossy pages for easy
cleanup.
Your bullshit smile searching
for recognition in this age
old game of satisfy the cock
One trick pony needs a new
game, an incentive for this
farceur to remain an opening
act in this cluster fucked
mulched over theme park
littered with stockings and
stilettos.
Your face on t-shirts and
Halloween masks vying for
the lead in this game,
Claiming a trophy while
you're the only player.
The end of this script
has already been written
I don't do reruns
©iris3690
I