Lady Death

Listen here, Lady— What you see is not for you to keep. Keep your distance and run away, Because my hands are made of blades, And my teeth have been sharpened with history. Danger lurks not from you— But from me. I am claiming what you see there: My erected phallus— That phallus that you took So proudly And so selfishly. Give it back. It’s mine. Your drools And horrid moanings Sinking my pelvic muscle To a flat grind. I’m just a young boy. I want to play with my toy soldiers. I want to sing with the morning cartoons. I want my innocence back— My drawings of rainbows, And two-dimensional housings. Give it back, Lady. It’s mine. It was never yours to keep.