Sick from the Cradle...

As I coasted in..
Assumed my position..
Numb to the host.
whose
horridly
demented..

Wicked attraction..
Lunatic
satisfaction..

You look so sick in pastels.
A skirt to die for..
Matched perfectly
with
your
shadow..

How low can I go?

You look so sweet..
with lips in fire engine red..
foaming at the mouth..
detached from your
lucid head..

Dance for me sir...
My knight in filthy armor...
Softly whisper
how
you wish
I was your daughter...

A father so clean..

Lay me down and do the things
that
others
seem
to
fear..
While I choke back the tear..
That
turns
my
performance
.
.
to GoLd...