Sunday, September 5, 2010

Rage

I have just 4 regs.  I like them.  For other men it's different.  These men I hate.  I walk.  They look at me.  I think fuck you buddy.  I wait for a coffee.  They chat.  They think I'm stupid?  A whore knows men.  They think they are smooth.  Really they are like a dog to a bone.  Do anything to get me.  Before I use this.  Now I just think fuck you. 

One trouble I have is big.  I don't take those bad men to jail.  So I wonder.  I am out. Will they see me?  I think who sees me walking.  Maybe they know me now.  They find me.  I can't forgive it.  And for me what is worst?   I wonder if they are out there.  Every day I wonder it.  

To live this way is stress.   For some it's a stalker.  For others a boyfriend that won't go away.  For me it's 2 bad men.  Do they watch?  My head says they are gone.  But inside I don't feel it.  If I walk I look all over.  This world is eyes.

The days pass.  More and more I am angry.  These guys walk away.  I think they laugh at me.  Fuck you buddy.  I think they don't even know.  They don't feel my anger.  I dream I can kill them.  It's a chunk of cement.  On their head.  I have 4 regs.  I am good.  But other men I don't like.  No man.  I don't like no man.  
What don't I like?  If you are a girl you know it.  You can't walk.  A man talks to you.  Smiles.  Is in your face.  Up in your grill.  Hello.  They are the dog to the bone.  I like it before.  Now, I hate it.  I don't smile. If I walk it's a tough face.  You stay away.I get sick of men.  It's no respect.  Just hit on you.  Those that smile and say hi.  It's not so bad.  Some yell from the car.  I think fuck you buddy.  You are lucky there is police.  Or I can find you. 

I am downtown.  It's afternoon.  I think I can eat.  It's a pita.  I love this.  I am alone sitting.  This man comes near me.  He sits down.  I don't look.  I don't see.  But he can't get it.  He must talk to me.  He asks my name.  It's the script.  I say 1 word.  This guy can't get it.  I talk to you?  I care what you say.  I care for you job?  It's like hammers in the head. I finally get up.  I tell him fuck you.  I am done.  I take this tray.  To the garbage to toss it.  He sais to me I'm just rude.  I will be alone forever.  This is not a good thing to say. 

It's the last day at the MP.  I don't think.  Inside I stop.  Just one minute.  Then I go to him.  And I take his drink.  I throw it on the floor.  I tell him FUCK YOU.  I tell you 100 times no.  But you can't listen.  You think I care for your job?  Or your good clothes.  I wish I can take his throat and squeeze it.  Until he can't breath.  ha ha.   Others look.  I don't give a fuck.  I walk out.  Fuck him. 

No comments:

Post a Comment