My horrid little orchid,
Osaka trash,
motioning me over,
wants me to get to know her
There are things she wants of me
specifically
to show her
She's opening up to me
in the most obscene way,
all mouth and petals
in a lavender shade
And I think I'm going to kiss her
I know I'm going to kiss her,
the hungry little whore,
tired little whiplash,
weeping like an open sore
Artless and graceless,
conscience bereft,
she almost has no substance left
And we haven't done all she wants to yet

©2001