Understand these things

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Until you understand

            that your body’s not firewood,

            a heating device

            made to keep men warm

            off the clogs of harmattan.

 Until you understand

            your body’s no whiskey,

            a fleshy bottle to cock ourselves into,

            a sea to cast our cares

            or a game to score points.

Until you understand

            that you body’s not a collateral,

            a bid to purchase self-worth,

            a three course meal made

            for gluttons.

Until you understand these things my child,

            they’ll turn you into a strip club,

            part you like red,

            burn you in the oven

            and blend you into an obituary.