Do you think I'm pretty

When I smile at you, with all my grief

Or my red stained nails that stick out like festering welts

In the belly of your mouth,

Poor of love and guilt stricken; a memoir of candied sin,

Like milk teeth scraping the leftovers of a lovers 

Tongued map of hills uneven,

A mausoleum of a lust

Catered to the worst of us

Latex mask to hide the shame;                  The girls you like online

Sultry hips and lips to match;                   Cam bunnies for lonely nights

Hungry hands for virtual stars,             Close the phone, then call me up

They do it better                                                                    Than my own hands;   

   

           

They love you harder                                                 Than my own crossed heart;

Scripted lines and borrowed lusts,                             Close the apps, then call me up

Dirty hands tethered to the phone;                            love the girls, hate your own

Ecstasy written on a strangers form,                           double tap and then go 

and then go

and then go home,