Eternal stranglehold, precious girl lost
besides lines of white and chains
Steer away from the crowd and look for the
customer, star of the night and crowded
Silk lace and soft hands press on toned
bodies, impulses unrepressed, organs blaring
in conjunction with emotional burstings. Fingers obtrusive
shredding threads with sharpened lust, heavy breathing
on her back.

Pleasure and apprehension relax any nervous grip or mental unease. Some kind of strange acceptance, inconceivable any past connections without the drooling on the bed, juices and stirring still lingering the days after someone has broken in.
Flowers wilted along the street. Old men
sip on tea, drunk on the seventh
cup. Grinning at the primal scene,
white and clear layers caked onto her
face, gags in place. A rusty nail

collects dust and spiders crawl into a box by a
disconnected TV. Static line drawn across the screen,
maintaining a low hum, white noise behind the
guttural moans and salty tongues smacking
flesh. Stammering around the room like unfed beasts,
huffing and puffing against restrained desires.
Houses in house, hidden from the obvious glare. One only
needs to think and laugh about the absurdity in it all

Go Back.