Whitehouse Princess Disease
The you needs to get a 3-star room
You're pleading to get to room
Constantly looking to find that place
That something
That somebody
And when you do the you becomes troubled and disturbed
And in that state proceed to be shocked and astonished
Can't think of anything but dinner from room service?
The hot plate of food
The tasty fried meat
The steaming potatoes
The tender vegetables?
Friendly crusty bread
Hot chocolate dessert
Topped so affectionately with double cream
Is that the you's only friend?
Apart from waiter who promised to bring it with great pleasure
Question: when did you notice the internal pain?
Was it before signing the cheque?
Hurt deep inside the vagina
It must be cancer
Or rape
Get to the toilet to find bright red blood
But you're past bleeding
That something
That somebody
Question: what are those huge gashes on your right leg from the middle of the back of the leg to the middle of the front?
What the f..ck is that?
Where the f..ck did that come from?
Time for a shower
A shower to wash away the filth
The memory
And get ready to examine the glory of those
Flawless Rohypnol bruises
Or GHB?
Or both?
Was it that black boy who brought dinner?
Or the bartender?
But then the you chooses not to have sex
How can you face what you can't remember?
In 3-star room
You want to get home to huddle and shake
Huddle and shake
Shake it, you
Shake, rattle and roll it then, not cunt
Fucking shake it
Question: do I have to console you?
Talk to the you?
That you're not a piece of crap?
When the you gets raped?
Would I abandon you?
Would I abandon a piece of crap?
Do you really think I would do that?
Why was it the you?
The cunt?
No short skirt
No fantasy hose
No flirting
Daylight
Just two drinks
Not hungry for a good hard f..cking that would leave nc
Pummeled with pain inside
You want to get to hospital bed
The white womb
Patiently waiting for the you
Constantly looking to find that place
The bed for the bronchitis
(That inflammation of the lining of the bronchial tubes)
The delirium
The cellulitis (that infection of the soft tissues in the legs - lethal if not treated with antibiotics)
The painful blood clots
The atrophying of muscles
The pneumonia (that serious infection of your lungs)
The high fever
The glamour of serious illness quoi
Selfishness
But there's nothing wrong with that
It's what makes the you different
Significant
Stronger than yesterday
Loneliness doesn't hurt any more
New question: so how do you like psychiatrists?
Lucid?
Or empathetic?
But then the you just blank stares
Or says some words
And that's the moment you rule over all life