The Artist

Is this a brush that I hold in my hand

Whilst you lie there...naked glory

All around me I see a blue haze

And glimpses of you...naked story

Billy Corgan growls ... i’ll pull your crooked teeth

I sit down on the stool...easels taunt

My paints lie wasted on the floor

Skewered, grimacing rainbows...but i flaunt

I see you walk away

Your breasts pert...can i squeeze, please?

Your thighs, milky creamy

Propping up that perfect ass...can i grab, please?

I peep for that one last look.

The door slams.

I grin.

Easel taunts.

Paints grimace.

I light a cigarette.

I wait.

The door knocks.

She walks in.

And I grin.