polka dot slot machine

polka dot slot machine
baby, i'm ensnared by your smile
and all those other cliches
you keep in your teeth, still
bleeding, fresh torn from
the womb.
it's april, that cruel courier
month, the one that says it's
bringing sunshine but always
delivers rain and winds
that blow harder than they
should, like you and your filed
down teeth and the way
you tease.
polka dot slot machine
give another whirl, your skirts
are flying and i'm not even trying
to pretend that i won't look.
it's april that liminal month,
full of desperate urges and
whiplash surges of lust
and violence;
the wheels in your eyes
are promising fortune, but
your mouth never yields more
than steel.
polka dot slot machine, i'll
take what i can get, and hoard
my coins til you get tired
of pumping out those lies
(they're like babies, baby,
they'll leave stretch marks
if you're not careful).
mouth on overdrive, brain on neutral,
you stopped listening long ago
and god only knows what
you're really hearing,
because "subtle" ain't in my
lexicon, even if it's all you know.
polka dot slot machine,
keep turning, turning;
i'm in love with a cliche.

----------

Aw, hell, I don't know. I got another ten lines of sestina to write, and that bloody phrase got stuck in my head. I feel like a dada poetry generator, rocking back and forth and back and forth, a perpetual poetry motion machine...

And fuck if I don't already know "subtle" isn't in my lexicon, but I still enjoy it, even if I'm not very good at it. Sounds are fun to play with, and I'll get better eventually. Hopefully. Gourd only knows.

My dreams have no connotation; while I'm dreaming them, whether I'm being drugged and raped by space creatures or fed cake 'til I burst, the "me" in the dream doesn't really care. It's all part of the show; I may wake up and find the implications slightly disturbing, but the dream itself? If it was a proper dream, I'll just ride the high from the sensory details. Doesn't matter if those details are painful or not- having my skin blister or lying in feathers, it's all the same to me. The dream where I was nearly burned to death was a good one, as far as these things go- it hurt like hell, and I woke up aching afterwards, but the story itself was engrossing, and that was enough to make it enjoyable.

I'm something of a freak, I know. I haven't been remembering my dreams lately, and I miss them.

And now! Back to the sestina.