Colombo cuddles another night
As I walk to the bus,
Disoriented, after work.
I feel skinless under the clothes.
If I had a chance to change the world,
I will change my boss.
My fluid fragmented
Divided self flows
To mingle with the dark.
And the world seeps into me.
The crowded bus. The neon lights.
Doors open to celebrate my plight.
The lurid lipstick, the wayward glance
Of a street walker on her prowl
I tell myself – look;
There are lives worse than your own.
Sanity insults: how?
Aren’t we all what we despise?
She sells her body.
We sell our lives.