money

Skull

I want a skull – a human skull.
It would make a divine paper weight.
I’d let it rest on my death threats
As I sit back in my leather chair
And sip whiskey slowly.

I want a skull – a human skull.
I’d plant a daisy inside the left eye socket
And I’d watch it grow through the bullet holes
As I sit back in my leather chair
And count the zeros on my statement.

I want a skull – a human skull.
I’d get implants for the skull,
They’d be gold and I’d let people stare
As I sit back in my leather chair
And laugh until I had them removed – forcefully.

I want a human skull – yours.
I want it on my mahogany desk
Because you hurt me in school
As I sat in my small school desk
And tried to hide the bruises from my parents.

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A slice of cake

Her Louboutins clack on the porcelain tiles.
She peers out of her Versace shades
and continues clacking towards the café.
Her manicured finger points it out
as she is led to a wooden table.
Her massaged hand removes the darkness,
places it alongside the Venetian wine glass.
A sigh escapes her perfectly smeared crimson lips
as a working-class hand places the plate.
She grips the silver-plated spoon,
smears the fluffy cream on top,
puts it down with a sharp click.
Her matching fork is raised
and pierces through the sponge,
sinking to the bottom like her esteem.
Raised up to her mouth,
inserted and lips close.
She completes and places a leopard.
Removes herself and clacks onward like a freight train.

Glamour Gourmet Gorgeous

I’m so full from my gourmet Michelin meal.
I’m empty, so empty – it’s how I feel.

I just Instagrammed my new diamond ring.
I feel like common stone commoners merely fling.

These Louis Vuitton shoes fit me so.
I’m incapable of filling shoes: I can’t grow…

Envy the zeros on my bank statement.
My esteem is a zero balance, lower than a basement.

The cost of my Aston could feed starving children in Ethiopia.
At least they are grateful unlike in my Utopia.

The 3 storey mansion has all I could desire,
But this life has extinguished my passion, my fire.

Check out this 5 star luxury resort,
I feel so poor like a forgotten, withering fort.

Stare at my super model boyfriend…
I’ve never felt real love. The end.

My face is modelled against perfection:
This facade hides a cracked complexion.

People are jealous of my picture perfection;
But to me life is my solitary, harsh detention.

A Wish For Humanity

I don’t want to be black;
I don’t want to be white:
I want to be human.
I don’t want to be privileged;
I don’t want to be unfortunate:
I want to belong anywhere.
I don’t want to be Christian;
I don’t want to be Buddhist:
I want to be spiritual.
I don’t want to be a blue;
I don’t want to be a pink:
I want to be equal.
I don’t want to be smart;
I don’t want to be creative:
I want to be valued.
I don’t want gay rights;
I don’t want women’s rights:
I want human rights.
I don’t want money;
I don’t want fame:
I want happiness.
I don’t want to be tall;
I don’t want to be thin:
I want to be imperfectly perfect.
I don’t want to be labelled;
I don’t want to be in a box:
I want to be free.
I don’t want to be you;
I don’t want to be them:
I want to be me.

We don’t want to want:
We need to be wanted.