Buying The Whore

You are the roast beef I have purchased

and I stuff you with my very own onion.

You are a boat I have rented by the hour

and I steer you with my rage until you run aground.

You are a glass that I have paid to shatter

and I swallow the pieces down with my spit.

You are the grate I warm my trembling hands on,

searing the flesh until it's nice and juicy.

You stink like my Mama under your bra

and I vomit into your hand like a jackpot

its cold hard quarters.