mussolini

i went to bed with benito mussolini - harsh, harsh man.
clean-shaven face, smooth skin
but rough hands.

mr. mussolini was the great leader of Italy - hitler was his friend.
see, nothing gets a girl's blood flowing like fascism
and invasion
of foreign lands.

i fucked a black man once; Ethiopia, you have good food.
but benito, boy, he sure knows how to treat you.
il Duce, tu dolce - you're sweeter than sacramental wine
under the scalding sun.

the roman empire didn't stand a chance against the man
who tingled my insides with his laws.

with his straight, pointy nose and his full, full lips
the Italian ruler drew the secrets from my skin,
painted a version of Picasso with all my ugliness.

i went to bed with benito mussolini.
he broke me down so badly my bones still feel like jelly.
i'm resting on top of the covers, waiting - he told me blankets don't keep you safe.

i let the meanest man in all of Italy tingle me.
i am fearless.

benito was in my bed, he made me swallow communion without questions.
he showered me in holy water.
blessed oil smoothed over my skin, repealed my sins.
i am faceless.

benito:

i was always beneath him.
i am placating.

i only wanted to learn how to govern myself.
i am cracking.

i never told him this, but i was sick of myself after the first night.
i am bending.

i am not ideal.
i am weaving.

i wanted all of italy to love me, and more.
i am gone.