What Drawer Do You Keep Your Stockings

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What drawer do you keep your stockings
Without secrets this life would be boring
Realize we’re all a little vain
Or we’d never get dressed in the morning

Moonshine martinis for the quiet lady
We all need an excuse to clear our minds
Offering a compassionate ear
The clues exist once you pull back the rind

Finding lipstick stains in the spilled ink
Dangerous curves under a vintage coat
Hushed tones as to not spook such a woman
The peculiarities of each soul; I take note

Late Nights Blend Into Early Mornings

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Late nights blend into early mornings
Up with the weirdos on the street
Seeing visions where the shadows were
My mind tripping; my instincts in retreat

All the sand has fallen from the hourglass
Dangerous curves when I’m confused
Punching time clocks when I should slumber
Paycheck feels light/ feel like I’m being used

Leaving my underwear in the middle of the floor
I need more, but its high time for bed
To sleep, to dream; an impossible task
Passing ships with everything left unsaid

Those Matchbox Fantasies

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Those matchbox fantasies
Gunmetal grey panties with soft pink polka dots
She placed a stiletto on her wooden leg
Character assassination plots go all for naught
Unassuming by way of distraction
She’s hiding a switchblade under that dress
She’s dangerous down to her core
A beautiful woman – you don’t want to mess
Beware of their corrosive accolades
There’s no exoneration in the line of fire
She’s insolent about your theoretical love
In the end, she’s killed you with her underwire

Listening To Wollstonecraft On The Radio

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Listening to Wollstonecraft on the radio
“Don’t turn that dial!”, that’s what the DJ said
Not tied to any system; I’m still analog
I’m dangerous; so the advertisers pled

Hereditary responsibility to the common good
Therefore I don’t believe what I’ve been taught
I see y’all got opinions, from your suburban thrones
& these school systems regurgitating corporate rot

Criminal malpractice leaves us with poor examples
But we’ve seen far worse on both sides of the aisle
Bribing the lowest common denominator for votes
Rewrite history, but perhaps that’s not in your files

I’ve been cast off, labeled a subversive heretic
But I’m easy – so I’m doing my best to unlearn
To unwind these falsehoods they tried to entrench
The slow burn; time to take candor for a turn

Rash choices based upon juvenile aesthetics
The understanding that we all might partake
Though one must know speaking the truth too loud
Turns into testimony & they might burn us all at the stake