They tell me that I reach for men who's hands are brazen in display

that I intentionallly look upon the sweet ones in dismay

that I do not know how to bend or shake the brutes out of my needs

they sigh and and glance away 

as I bend in two and feed

The women come for me in shivers

for a latte with some lies

they chitter every bend of arm

and kiss my golden sides

as I recline in their attention eating up their love

and they in turn pour out of me a girl who is a dove

beating down the clouds for them and turning inside out

as they sweep me up into their hungers

and burn their stories on my mouth

I know I am intolerable in my solid, stubborn stance

immovable from black and white for love in hatred stands

I twist, I turn around my stories grasping at the edge

of the curl of ivy hugging round the hotel's gilded edge

as I step in rhythm to my blood pouring down like rain

across a city's canvas dreams brilliant, insane

and I crawl it on the edge with screams ripping at my throat

on and on, my baby

ready?

set

let's go!