Word Whore

I am writing poetic pieces on the fleeting joys of family life.

Whilst missing out on my own family.

And being a moaning haggard harridan when I do see them.

I am prostituting my craft and soul for people to red line it,

scar it.

Chop it.

Hurt it.

Ah, poor me!

I am but a lost poet who needs to scrape and sing to buy food and shelter.

How I hate myself.

Turning tricks with words

I banter to put up the price

Sell a fantasy against your reality.

Flaunt and flirt

and flash temptation.

I can make you want it.

Desire it.

Buy it.

All whilst having a breakdown

in communication

with

myself

.

About jacqueline S

I get paid to write things for clients. I'm not paid to write here for myself.
This entry was posted in advertising, copywriter, creative, musings, poet, poetry, thinking, thoughts, work, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Word Whore

  1. Stacy Moore says:

    I can hear Lena Horne singing it—“Words for sale. Appetizing young words for sale…” A cellist friend ended up changing the direction of her whole career because she couldn’t stand the whoredom of gigging. Hang in there! All those clients with their red pencils are nothing but raw material for your novel.

    Liked by 1 person

    • jacqueline S says:

      Thanks Stacy — I actually I wrote this about 2 years ago and re-discovered it in my writing files this week. As I’ve been neglecting my poor blog lately (Lack of inspiration? Boredom? Laziness? Take your pick…!) I just thought I’d post *something* to fill in the white space. But yes, like your friend, I would like to do something else with my life at the moment. Got to pay the bills though. And there are some good darkly comedic moments at times 😉

      Liked by 1 person

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