Peter Sotos
You’ll never look this good again
You’ll never be younger than this

The words that slide out of their lazy holes are the same as any other road noise
Noise as sad representation
A safe remove, aggrandising, desperate, resigned and ultimate separation
Only words
But they’re words I collect
Words I f**k
Thoughts and campaigners I covet and care so very much about that I keep the showy wrapping paper

Say it: only words
Say it: it wasn’t her fault
Say it: monster
Perfect pure product
Bugs flit around looking for an in
Something comfortable
It wants truth
It wants to be fooled
It needs to be convinced
It’s looking for a little religion
A suggestion on what works
Mummy taught you how to like it
Daddy taught you how to sleep
You don’t want those tangles in your hair like when mummy pulled a comb through, do you?

Pay attention
Let me wipe your face, your little lip and cheeks
This is what a****s do
This is what a****s do
Say no

Say stop
Say no you’re not
Right now, mummy said don’t
I wanna go home
Mummy said
This is what you get
What you take in
It only happens once
I’m going to teach you to sing
And teach you to worry about others
The way you worry about yourself
So why don’t you talk to your daddy any more?
Name yourself
Not C**t
Nothing happens
Not this
Not c**t
Not just this
Not just another hole
A tighter comparable pit
This time saying
Not c**t
What’s bad?
What’s bad for you?
When did it stop being enough?
Doing good enough
Not this
Not just this
Not just another hole
For baby?
What did mummy say?
Does mummy let you do this?
How do you apply lipstick?
How do you apply blush?
How do you fold scented kleenex?
What’s talc*m powder for?
How do you put on your knickers?
How do you pull on your tights?
How do you cross your legs?
Where do you wear perfume?
How do you walk in those heels?
Little miss
Little doll
Little dolly
You’ll always be this beautiful
No matter how old and stupid and blank and pinned-up and tucked and sucked in and high-heeled and lied and drugged - just like your mummy looks now
Little full empty head
You were born for this
What do you think the makeup’s for?
The kleenex? The blush?
The c*cksucker red lipstick?
The bleached hair?
The talc*m powder? Your knickers and tights?
The heels? Mummy’s shoes?
Your painted toenails?
Do you know there’s nothing more?
Your coming t**s
Your a**
Your c**t
What the f**k do you think it’s for?
You’ll never look this good again
You’ll never be younger than this
I can see all that
And I’m not wrong about any of it