M I S T E R M E D I AM I S T E R M E D I A
Mister "exploit my body"
Mister "low carb, low weight, low self-esteem" media
Mister "rape my belly"
Mister "thigh and hip genocider"
Mister "tits and ass, and 12 year old leg dispenser"
most prestigious profiter of my self worth
the one you sold to me,
in my pink crib at birth!
How is it you sleep at night?
while I eat the stars and
Fast on the moon?
Doing sit ups for you
or standing in the bathroom
with my shirt up
wanting my womb and child bearing hips
live between the glossy pages of my
2 dollar and nineteen cent propaganda
a million magazines singing
anorexia's national anthem
rows and rows lining my supermarket
You live in a castle made of cable
computer wirings and satellite dishes
television sets and
you're a cross between Kate Moss and Keneth Lay.
Mr. "Sell! Sell! Sell!"
tragedy, vulnerability, sullen stares
teaching baby girls bruises and sickness is pretty
while you look anything but sullen
Fucking beaming as you make love to your dollar while I...
while I make love to that ad you sold me
while I make hate with myself
while I make myself sick over some toilet,
or empty because it feels good
while I make love to that addiction.
we're all getting off, I guess.
It's just that my climax could kill