POEM: I don’t get you babe


I’ve got a silicone snatch with your name on
I got that photograph and those scissors from Peru
You stole your alibi and those zebra stilettos
From Jimmy Choo

I keep my bullet-prufe vest and my jeans on
I know the sound of your footsteps in the hall
I rest my finger gently on the trigger
In case you call

I’ve got free WiFi from the neighbours
I’ve got a tattoo and a bible and a plan
I wrote my name in the public toilets
I’ve got a gram

I’ve got prescriptions for diseases you ain’t heard of
I’ve made that voodoo doll from your twisted genes
I’ve got confessions made for tricky situations
I’ll walk free

I have information that can destroy you
I’ve got addicted to my wounds so I can pretend
I’ve got a fistful of anti-depressants
To call my friends

I’ve broken all of the Ten Commandments
I’ve prayed to God for cunnilingus and a Porsche
I found an old Leonard Cohen CD in a junk store
I need more

I’ve got surround-sound voices to remind me
I count the rusted blades lying in the drain
I’ve got a 6 inch nail through the palm of my hand
I’ve got hate mail

I get my designer moods downloaded from Facebook
I get my feelings from a factory in Japan
I get that Photoshopped celebrity authentic
But I don’t get you

I left my pick-up lines in a mirror at the station
I got cold steel strapped to the inside of my thighs
I like dripping hot wax and ice cubes and duct tape
The Pope just smiles

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