Tuesday, June 1, 2010

“Why So Many Whores”

Maybe I take photographs.
No you can’t be my subject, flirting with my lover, Canon. So you could hurt him… and me- then become another’s subject… and cheat on us with Nikon. But you can hold my flash for me.
Maybe, I’ll just keep you around.
Perhaps your smoking bothers me.
Yes, I know I do it- but it’s the way you do it that bothers me.
Perhaps its just what you smoke- nicotine is the worst habit.
Simply taking in a tree- when did trees hurt people?
No more chirping mini pigeons being seen through my oversized glass windows, please.
Maybe some passed out overly drunk women all in one place unaware of the eyes watching them.
Perhaps I’ll find myself falling in love with one of them so I won’t die alone. But what if she dies first?
No. And I can’t replace a sex toy after a certain age so I’m screwed if she dies first.
Yes, I’m thinking maybe I should just wake up- or not.
No, what’s the point of waking up when I shouldn’t have fallen asleep in the first place?

-Butta Love, the provocative verbalist