Skip to main content

The Game Will Eventually Belong To Me

One day I'll get back 

from a charity auction

to my manhattan penthouse


I'll take my diamonds off my neck

and toss them on the floor 


I'll take my pearls off my ears and

I'll toss them in the garbage 


I'll let my hair tumble

down over the straps 

of my vintage Dior dress


I'll roll a joint of the finest weed

money could ever see 

I'll use gold leaf papers



I'll sit down on my leather

couch  but I'll keep my

stilettos on my pedicured toes


Then I'll listen to 

The Games Belongs To Me

And let UGK take it away



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I Can't Hear Your Little Red Rooster

Fright

I call this room Home.

He will not look at me

His eyes flicker with

a speck of violence.



my strained smile,

disgusted by

my pleading eyes.

my veins freeze

icy blood

tearing through coronaries




May Day

'Hope, you don't have to use it on your wedding night.'

She handed the pistol to Hope, right after the vows, right before the reception.

'I'm just kidding, darling. Don't worry. He's a good man. You did well sweetheart. He's a good man. You'll be fine.'

Hope's paper-thin smile tried to grow as she stared at her grandmother's reflection in the mirror. The mother-of-pearl grip sparkled in her grandmother's hand, bathed by the Chapel's cheap buzzing lights.

'There's a bullet for you, just in case.'

Hope had left the gun on the table.

A week earlier, drunk off self-pity, she had taken it out of its case and walked to the kitchen, where she stuck the barrel in her mouth and proceeded to take pictures of herself to send to Ray.

In a rare instance of good fortune, her phone ran out of battery before she could indulge her sense of pithy revenge. She woke up and pried open her tear-salted eyelashes then made sure to delete an…