Prostitutes

I don't like 

comparing

but now that you

have

let me begin

I see these

so called

men with

rationality

with egos

harder 

than their 

hard ons

impotent

unjust

unworthy

swinging

between their dreams

teaching others

preaching others

ridiculing mothers

calling others

prostitutes

as if 

prostitutes

are not people

not beings

but 

dirt

(that they often dream of)

and for

some reason

some funny reason

their 

own will 

wisdom

has turned to 

treason

for they cant see

the rationality

prostitutes have

the level of acceptance

the level of pain

they have conquered

they keep 

telling me

to focus 

on the wants

to focus on the

goals

not what

you don't want

good

thanks

thank you

for that freedom

but wait 

you turn around

and slap me

with your

impotence

while

you blow

the corporate 

day in

day out

playing with 

their balls

made of

measurable

freedom

but only to

a certain limit

a certain limit?

are you for real?

you fuckin unpolished

shoe's heal

of the one sitting

on top

of your corporate

food chain

and you talk of freedom?

and poets

are not paid well

and poems

do not sell well

just b'coz

you can't measure

such depths

with your

dirty

little circle 

of paper exchanging

hearts and dreams

my poems aren't 

worth

your fuckin paper money 

they are worth

the paper they exist on

worth the hearts 

they heal

and if my poetry 

can not feed me

id rather die hungry

for my soul feeds

on feelings

on patterns

on love

and if you cant exchange that

for the same

then fuck you

i'd rather die hungry.