The Lipstick's Muse

Why do you want to be human? Asked the lipstick’s Muse. Their conscience is like a cochlear implant They are glued to work For fun, they kick a leather ball or fornicate Lust makes them jig like a fish on a bent hook Whereas you are a slider, a glider Slipping out from your glamorous metal sheath To smear their lips like sweet fudge, melting Paste can shine the dirtiest brass Makeup is about identity, you were carefully christened. You were not named Whipped Caviar Dissolved in Dreams, Pinky Nude Sinner Or Catfight Truffle Tease….that suits you to a T.