Strip down bare.
I want to see those legs,
The legs of your soul.

Underneath what you love
and who you think you are,
I wanna know who you are.

There isn’t a rubric
Or a test to pass.
Whatever you are, is.

I just want to know if I’ll see you again,
After I beat you down till you’re dead.
Show me, baby, your naked soul.

Because maybe next time I’ll be sweet
and kind
and gentle.

But you know better,
because you’ve seen my naked soul.
But I bet you’ll come find me anyway.

Because I think your soul,
like the masochist you are,
like a roach that crawls on top of the kitchen table…
Wants to be smashed.

You creep and crawl because
you think that’s all you’re good for.
And you may be right.

You’d never say it!
Who wants to admit that they’re
better fit to hide?

So, say what you want…
But I think I know.
So just show it to me.

You know you want to.

Let me unzip your high-neck dress
to find your back spotted with all you’ve ever been.
Just stand in front of me so I can see.

And then I’ll have at it.