The Truth and a Dare

Do you like the mess I’ve made? My cheap clothes, my charcoaled eyes, My bedraggled dreams and The rage I drown every night. I try to convey my constant cravings with Little ditties and pretty stockings, But who out there can see, hear and comprehend? I lay out my heart like a red, wet stain Soiling the carpet, ready for anyone Who passes by to spit, stomp and piss. No one dares stare, lest they may care and Think for a moment about me. Who am I to admit I’m afraid of the coming day And whether or not you’ll notice I’m there. The lining has run from my eyes Down to my breasts that throb and heave From the absence of a hand. I try to say that any will do, but What I need is a touch that reaches through, and Keeps me quivering and writing and yet Knowing the lingering will leave. This is the mess that I keep within me. You can see it if you look deep enough Into my eyes, but already it’s spread and Lies underneath. Dark, shadowed and powdered over. Who out there will dare to stare to get to know me. But, how dare I let you know as I feel you Spit, stomp and piss and keep walking on by.