Call Girl Sing

Life.
It will juice you like
a rotten lemon

Until the sun shines
hatred and nausea.
It will sear you:
raw meat,
raw eyes and raw feet.

It is a music box, too.
Open it.
Hear the song they played
the last time you died.
I never said love sounded sweet.

Life.
It will grind you in its teeth
down between the wheels of the sea.

The farther you sink,
you forget what light was like.
Best forget to breathe.

Then again, you can always
fight.
Think: If you can take that
crack on the jaw,
you can also swing,

And every whore opens her eyes
on every new day.

Money don't grow on trees,
but gold pours out
with the salt and morning of a common flower.

Honey
she said
you don't need a man for that.