Opals

My nine fingers are black with
tar in a good way.
perhaps a smoking gun
to set them straight and a lack of my second
index to make sure
I never handle it
incorrectly ever again.

I called ol' spencer and she said
she'd let me borrow the beater
to set my crooked life straight.
I stick a lickin' to the fightin'
few in a hurry.
I feel like a lung in a blender.

It shoves past us and makes us
feel like shattered glass.
I would give a ring
for a friend.
perhaps a really good friend.

Set to the task of self
satisfying
set to the art of
self glorifying
and self esteem
enforcing.

cut from the world
and steamed to the star
of my choice.
I chose a gas giant to
fit my huge ego.
It was sweltering on the
fusion surface. so much to
do - to clean up
before the guests arrive
to burn in this
hell as I have.

I struck a man in the jaw
with the back of my hand
to give him something to think about.
It was a hard slap of grace and fortitude.
a slap to fuck his shit right up.

announcing the prancing
sass of a golden, long winded
queen -- she can talk for hours.

Old maid, she was, until
I found her and made her an
old wife. She liked me for a while
but then she felt I was encroaching
on her space... she asked me to
leave and I cried but did as I was
asked. I try to do as I'm asked.

seclusion was honorable so
I marked it with a cross and leaned
in against it.
I am here for someone else.
he saved me so I have to live my best.
I have so much to prove to both of them.

I'll divide my life
I'll multiply my love.