Raging Whore Moans

I lay here like a whore every morning I come to this job. I moan about it in the shower. I moan about it while I skip breakfast. I moan about it during the entire commute. Yet I’m the one who gives a piece of myself away each day while they leave the money on the nightstand. I spread my legs for them willingly so I can fatten up my bank account only to purge it later on a nice mani and pedi to go with my new shoes and fancy car to match my luxury home. I’m whoring my life away for a dream. The American Dream. But what idiot American came up with this nightmare? It wasn’t me. This isn’t my dream; to wake up each day and go to some corporate desk job for ten hours so I can be too exhausted and stressed by the time I leave to enjoy my dream world.

This dream is raping my soul…only it’s not, because I’m giving it away. I spread my legs one last time while you eat me out of everything I have left: my hope, my freedom. May it leave a sour taste in your mouth knowing I have nothing left. There will be no more feasting off my failure. When in reality I failed to fail. I keep succeeding at the same thing, over and over and over, like a headboard beating against the wall, and over again. I succeed at dangling my life from a cage unable to reach reality. I succeed at stripping off my dreams one by one until I stand, naked, swaying to the rhythm of a time clock, unable to see my destiny. That is, if I have one left. Desperate to clothe myself with purpose and only able to grasp rage. Raging at the whore I moan about becoming. Raging at failed dreams. Raging at fulfilled dreams with no complacency. But mostly raging at me. I beg you Lord, unlock this whore house I’ve built and clothe me in robes of righteousness. Purify my life. Freedom God, I’m raging for freedom.


Walk me down the isle of life and give me away to my dreams~LauraLo