Crucified

Crucified, Myself
i crucified myself with all the other
urban divas, who'd only know of a Mary
whore, she pocketed gold coins with a flip of sunshine
or was it a chocolate river?
and i crave the right to decorate my breasts in pearls
white, like the other, who'd never had needed such commodity
(did she ever pocket a golden coin at all?)
i crucified myself and find myself looking down at men
and girls who'd strike me, pulling flesh from my wounds
spitting salted stares at my sins
and i ask myself: do they not know what they cannot do?
i've already crucified myself! i drink of sweetened let --
vampires suck rawness bought of risk --
how will i ever get down? and, will they care?
she, a Mary, whose face leers naked: has she to know
i've crucified myself and envy her right, perceived,
to wear pearls. (oh...how they tumble!) i chuckle and let...