Are You Hot for Me Yet

August 22, 2019

If you’re not on my hitlist you can go and find another murderer or just fuck off.
Jesus Christ, have you even read Sylvia Plath? We have literally nothing in common.
I pissed about over the ad all day and in the end settled for the tagline ‘terminally bored MILF
likes wrestling, hates love, needs a drug induced coma – apply within.’

Seriously, I wouldn’t fuck with me if I were the last poet on earth and God knows I’m not.
How vulnerable are you on a scale of one to ten? Ten being walks around city centres
with barely anything on and a little-girl pout looking to score coke and one being lives in a self-imposed
regime of silence in a vaulted room? I die every day to save you from seeing me.

Do you like smashing things and breaking things? I don’t need or want permission.
I only get off on causing the maximum amount of damage before the eyes of God.
You need to separate the sex from the poetry – just because you didn’t like how I blew you
doesn’t mean you can play about with my grammatical idiosyncrasies. So get this straight:

I don’t care about your complexities, right? If I take you out of context I want to know
you’ll blend in with the landscape. How regularly do you wear cocktail dresses? Do you know
how to create a convincing persona? We all want to live in a hotel dearie but can you infiltrate
the lives of others successfully? Oh God, you’re a writer? Oh well then, I guess that’s a no.

Melissa Lee-Houghton