Don’t You Go Thinking
Listen you, don’t you go thinking
You know. Always it gets us into
Trouble. Some rum-tum rubble of
What you thought I’d be, think I am.
Would that I were that! So not
As you see, veins open, I bleed
On my knees – your virgin suicide,
Bride.
You’ve always had me wrong.
Elsewhere you seek your dark
Pride, a bride to take to bed
But not to mommy. I’m as holy
And as filthy as the best – worst –
Those you think so above me.
I levitate them, then walk
On their backs, take from each
What I want.
I’m your bright electric whore
The blue madonna too - so pray.
Pray tell: Who did you think
I was when you did me: some
Saint, stiff with holiness.
Oh baby, I can surprise
With the best.
