fucking daughters

i would bleed for you
right here on my carpet
i would die
just one moment
i would lie onto my
blanket

i have learned the words
you like to hear
and i say them
i know the taste that
blows your childhood mind
i suck and dance
and stink at style
but if only for a chance
if i only had that chance
to be raised like you
i could show too...

the fragile world when
raised like me, i see through

i kick the bucket in on xanadu
and kubla khan
pours sweet drinks to
my soul
and nothing but my shoes
feel quite that old...
and silver and gold....(sing)
silver and gold
plated
in the window just for show
is the luster of that love
i used to know
and the flowers in the garden
that you grow with
the pieces of my soul so
picked and so raw
bet
i must be the worst
you ever saw
and liar,
i am chosen to be free
to roam inside the lies created for me
and i am so many things-
through improper representation
i am a fable in their eyes
just a work horse
fucking daughters
a tasked master alone on
coal black water
a dish of stone and caviar
'tween brothers
a justified worryin' for my mother

and through this massive hell
my children suffer,
suffer and hide fast your holy name-
the tribe you're from has come to pick up
the broken clay pots and flower's luck

lonely mourning snowflake
falling dove,
butterfly, just drift as we stand up......

one day i'd sing into those eyes so
sad and blue
slightly hypnotized by
enchanting candle fire
some called you

a sexy candle's voice that
talked like you...i write
and smoke and fumble off my
shoes,
my shirt and pants and
mirror's laughing fast at
lack of glamour
at stumbling
sense of urgency to
mark a blind man's territory
pissing
in braille lavatories is all we seem to do
so what are we leading our children here to do
and why does your perfume sing me right to
lust
-napping, as mimosas bloom at dusk...
soft pink and white from green leaves
against pastel like dying sky-
wishing out of all i know
i never learned to say goodbye.