Psst...

Hey Big Daddy, lemme holla at you for a minute. It won't take long...how much time you got? What you in the mood for this evening? I got what you need right here.

Want some ecstasy?

I got you.

A taste for little bit of needy? Got that too.

You had a rough day, and want a little empathy?

Ooooh, you got the right. one. baby. Uh huh.

See I'm a pimp, and I pimp out my feelings on a regular...just for a little attention. Don't look at me like that Papi, everybody got a little attention-whore in 'em, even you! The question is, how far would you go to get that itch scratched? I bet you ain't no chick that could boost your ego like me baby. Does she stroke it like I do? I know exactly where it feels good baby. I got what you need. You need a little desire, well you have come to the right place. I will desire you all you want baby, just give me a little attention. That's all I need baby, how much time you got?

Cuz I'm a pimp, and if you're paying the right amount of attention, my feelings are all yours. You wanna hurt somebody baby? Here's my ego. Want to show somebody who's boss? Here's my shame. Or do you like to be on the "receiving" end? I won't judge. I'll just say this. My feelings of disappointment and regret are TOP-notch. It will have you feeling worthless in no time flat. I could even throw in a little guilt-job free of charge. Just gimme some attention baby, how much time you got?

I wish I had a red dress...

All black everything it's what's comfortable to me now. I fade into the background and lead a life of monotony. I work a menial job for a meager salary. I drive a boring car and live in a modest dwelling void of any fancy decor. I don't have a lover, a dog, cat, fish...hell, I don't even have any plants. I don't cook anymore, my idea of a gourmet meal is honey drizzled on a bowl of cereal. I'm bored. When did life become this way?

Sometimes I dream to get away. I dream about living in warm climates with beautiful scenery and I'm just...fancy. I walk around with high-heels all the time with colorful dresses and wide, floppy hats and I'm fabulous. I speak with an air of importance and people wonder about me. They whisper about me. I hear them but I act like I don't. They whisper and speculate "I bet she's an actress, or an author...she must be important" they say. I leave huge tips for waitresses and walk as if I glide. I hop into my fancy yellow convertible and drive off into the distance with my hair playfully dancing around my face.

I'm interesting.

Sometimes I'm a singer. I picture myself standing behind the stage, with thousands of fans chanting my name. I let the excitment build and stroll confidently to the middle of the stage in my red dress. I stand there and strike a Diana with my arms spread wide and just look around. I have a big, luscious black afro, sometimes there's a flower in it. Maybe I'll blow kisses. I let them cheer. When I finally take hold of the microphone, the crowd falls silent. They all wait with baited breath to hear the melody come from within. I know what they want. I take a deep breath and open my mouth and the most soulful sounds emerge. I surprise myself. I'm beautiful. I'm wanted. I'm worlds away from menial and meager and modest. I'm interesting.

Sometimes I wish I had a red dress...