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It's not their beauty
Or their curves
That drives me to insanity

It's not the concave of the navel
Or the bends in their backs

It's not the softness of their skin
Or scent of their soul
That makes me insane

It's not their delight
Or kindness

It's not their slenderness
Or intelligence
That brings me to the ward

It's the way they are presented
On a pedestal

It's their clothes
Their makeup
Their garments
Their extras
Their beautifications

It's their transparent white blouses
Thier lace white bras
And tight red skirts

It's their thong underwear
And hot red barbie lipstick

It's their sistership
And innocence

Their leather pants
And latex too

It's their
Corporated perfume
Designer's gain

It's thier made-up high cheek bones
And gravity killed tits

Thats what makes
me insane

 1998 David Greg Harth Ocean/London -> NYC