I've watched as the sluts become

saints

on a stage serving as filthy, holy, pedastal

held up by the dirty

thoughts

corrupts twenties

stuffed into tight

revealing

g-strings,

falling off without

a moment's notice.

 

No one questions the moral judgement

of anybody with the body

of a goddess

when it is

revealed

for

your

viewing

pleasure.

 

Leave that conversation for the uninspired

peasents at a social gathering

who put forth the image of social

deceny

as if society was decent,

or for your partner

and their friends

when you are

put on the spot.

 

At least you can save

by speaking out of your

second mouth,

two face.

 

I noticed a mentor become a maniac,

and he will revert back to the hero,

when cocaine makes him a martyr.

 

A martyr for what cause?

 

Well, who cares,

the cause never mattered,

society is full of the coldest wars,

stand-offs with no rhyme or reason.