Laura – Bombay, 13 February 2003

Let me be your whore tonight
Let me be the one you hate
The one you crave
Let me be the one you please
Let me give you your release
Let me fall to the ground,
Fall to my knees
And lick my bloodied tears.
Let me be the one you drive
Let me be what keeps you alive
You taught me how to cry
You made me want to die
To take away the pain
By coming back again.

You haunt me in my sleep,
Your flesh beside me creeps,
The pillow underneath
Like your body, like my sheath.
Like a car you cruised me, bruised me,
Went nuts and bolted out the door,
Left me loosely hung
On the ceiling, on the wall.
I found myself in white, white chambers
Disinfected and disoriented.
Where were you hiding in your hole?
Won’t you let me be your whore?

Use me, abuse me,
Take one look and turn away,
Fuck me all night and forget to pay.
This way, that way, in any way
You had your way.
I was over my head
You were under my skin.
Thin from within.
Blind.
What did I find?

Time and tide ebbed and flowed
Like gold, like the blood off my bones.
But I wanted to see red.
I wanted to be dead.
And I wanted you to live
And see me gone,
To feel me not there
Where I once was.
Because you lied
And over-promised love
And took it all back
Because I wasn’t thin enough.
A little each day,
Like a crime I might not see.
But I felt the hold loosen
Over the noose around me.

Let me be your whore tonight and treat me bad.
Be bad, be mad,
Let me be had.
Make me cry but, just not sad.
Use what you want and discard the rest.
I will let you have only the best
Of me. Of you.
I thought we were one, but you counted two.
One and twice you ripped and fled
And there I lay dying,
Dying to be bled.
To be white as those walls,
Those sheets, those beds.
White as white.
Pure and unstained.
Virgin-like, so unlike
The whore in your bed.

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