paigeismelancholy
the English Channel lies between our consciousness
twenty one miles separate me from you
a nation without a nationality
a strong country with world prominence
separated by a sea
there's no ferry to answer our pleas
to bring us together and unite us
when we have strength we could meet in the middle
as allies
sex sells
the commercialist's nod to
seeing the trends in viewers
a bit of teasing and pleasing
gives higher ratings
stuck in a rut
and down in the dumps
leaving no where to go
butt up you search
for the approval you crave so vastly
and find it in a stranger's bed
your fee rising per hour
per every transaction with a satisfied costumer
you're good at this
your sex cells vibrate with you
your sex sells
we went to the pub just a day ago
to wipe away the memories
a friend had passed in a malicious sort
and we were dun the same
to damn each other and ourselves
we drank our whiskey and we drank our beer
and no one will know what we got on here
burning in my flesh
guilt rolling
back and forth
a tidal wave of fat and greed
crushing my insides and ripping
out the pieces of my heart
one
by
one
a slice and the feelings remain
mixed with
satisfaction
she looked to the jury on her left
every eye on her
she closed her eyes and took a breath
(is this true)
she smiled and nodded
tears silent
overflowing from her eyes
(no further questions your honor)
and a shot rang from the viewers
she looked at the list
her rating had tumbled
fallen through the floor
he makeup smeared
eyes dilated
she tried to pick up
the pieces of herself
found in everyone else