Suga Momma Poem by Frank Valenti

The way up stare vacantly with your wrinkly eyes

Knowing in the back if your mind

Everything I said are obvious lies

Knowing its your money that makes me kind


Pleasuring you takes everything I have

To hold back the vomit and feel bad for myself

Stopping repeatedly for your breaks to the lav

Fumbling with your pills inside the mirror shelf


Hoping this is worth it for the money in your will

Praying I beat out your children for your cash

Thinking all it will take is just one more pill

Laughing all the way to the bank with a curtled milk mustache