raisin in the sun

i hate you and the lying you do
each morning in front of the mirror,
your blouse loose and billowing
through orange powder, caked
onto your marred face, cucumbers
wasted to cure puffy alcoholic eyes
in a pre-office haze.

fabricated half truths
sewn carefully; horses,
your brother, the countryside;
tragedy at the hands of man.

you are a slave
to order: blue-eyes stroking
cock, cum dripping,
t.v. on layaway,
a ring on your finger,
two in your clit, yellow
stained teeth, a mustache lip,
mustache belly, burnt
bread in your toaster,
bulimic dentist bills,
just another raisin in the sun.