is it wrong to long for the sweet things in life? the glossy superficial neat things in life, that cost a lots of cash...
is it ok every day to lust after fine french chocs in a big stripey hat box, the sort they had in black and white films. to a starlette it never would occur, it would be neither here nor there to her, to have all my desire in her fine lily mit, and there, and now by the cue card, she'll throw a fit of the vapours in her, probably, silk night gown, as she pores over these dark treaures, one by one. they are so ravishing these chocolates, there is not a map to guide one as to which is what... that is only for my crappy lot.
she plops them into her tiny rosebud mouth... with such disinterest, like she's filing her nails... i love her, she's great! but i hate her too... more attention to the chocolates, you!
is it wrong to long for an entire wardrobe of designer clothes... the cuts, the lines, all the fine stitches dragged over the thighs of ungrateful bitches, i lust in the window of YSL, i'd model their winter collection so well, but she gets to do it, and i do not... she looks like rhino squashed into a pot. but she's got the gold card, with or without taste, they just want her money, she just wants my face .
is it morally dubious to desire shoes as much as i... little boats of pleasure, style and finesse
to match you in whatever style you dress, they slip onto your foot like a hand slips over your curves
and lets face it, high heels a brave man deserves! the leather's so fine, the smell is divine,
i'm stroking them now in their box. cos they're mine.
i swoon at the huge diamond ring she has on! to that bunch of bananas, it does not belong. oh you pyrana, pardon me do, you're carrying your ( big breath) prada, tiffany, louis vuitton, ferre, armani, givenchy, chanel, westwood, missoni, chloe, issey miyake, guerlain, shiseido, dior, dolce and gabbana, tiffany and cartier cardboard carrier bags, you cant possibly carry the weight of that, too...
and they wear it all at once! their jewels and clothes and designer bags, like the kid on boxing days who wears all his gifts together, but with a lot less charm and little wonder. clockwork wives with their clockwork plunder.
i trail after these things... it must be wrong. when what fills me up is a poem or song. but there's this rich girl in me too... i want concorde and hotels and everything new. i had it the other way, second hand lil, but now i am grown up, and my cup starts to fill. from all my old attitudes, i am now parting and watch what you wish for... i'm only just starting