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deepundergroundpoetry.com
much ado about nothin' ‘cept sex drugs and violence
It was never about us, it was about little boys
with grown-up toys trying to be men
he was a harmless old drunk
probably sniffed too much petrol in his time
always had a hello and smile for the girls
And those boys…
they were just dogs pissing on their territory
and they treated us no better
than nineteenth century whores
there for a quick knee-trembler or sneaky blow- job
under a blanket while getting high on the couch
I lit a cigarette and watched
semi-disgusted from the kitchen
the drug-fuelled macho show of two young guys
beating up an old man
the other girls hid whimpering under a table
like they’d never seen a punch-on before
but I figured - better him than us
those boys would get me drunk
to fuck me up later, like they did all of us
that came calling ‘round for a fix and a fuck
I don’t remember the old guy’s face
of what he looked like when they were done with him
But I do remember telling those bitches
to “shut the fuck up”
as I cranked up Linkin Park on the radio
eyes half on the beating
wondering what all the fucking fuss was about
it’s not like they were beating us
© Indie Adams 2012
with grown-up toys trying to be men
he was a harmless old drunk
probably sniffed too much petrol in his time
always had a hello and smile for the girls
And those boys…
they were just dogs pissing on their territory
and they treated us no better
than nineteenth century whores
there for a quick knee-trembler or sneaky blow- job
under a blanket while getting high on the couch
I lit a cigarette and watched
semi-disgusted from the kitchen
the drug-fuelled macho show of two young guys
beating up an old man
the other girls hid whimpering under a table
like they’d never seen a punch-on before
but I figured - better him than us
those boys would get me drunk
to fuck me up later, like they did all of us
that came calling ‘round for a fix and a fuck
I don’t remember the old guy’s face
of what he looked like when they were done with him
But I do remember telling those bitches
to “shut the fuck up”
as I cranked up Linkin Park on the radio
eyes half on the beating
wondering what all the fucking fuss was about
it’s not like they were beating us
© Indie Adams 2012
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