[om]

Remember kids:
Scantily clad prostitution intuitively capitalist.

She thinks slowly,
already pulling down her
already wet panties
already clinging to her ankles.

In this Victorian room
life mingles with violent apparitions.
An actress giving him evidence
of what he wants:
Her stock,
which the gentlemen always appreciates.

“Oh god! Oh god
Yes! YES!!”

i wonder if the sex was good?

“Father Love Fuck”

a blizzard among yellow leaves

“I’m a whore!”

dead hollow tree . . .

“Afterwards I’ll need a vibrator

I’m a bitch-whore!”

SCREAMING, screaming

“FATHER!
Father!
father . . .”
i would feel better if you hated me.

I feeling wooden,
have termites eating away at my soul.
I pray for the blood of me to fall out,
Flooding this thing
I inspire,
things I might desire.
Flooding,
to suppress this feeling.
Flooding,
to drench myself.

“call girl, glorified whore!”

she cries alone.
_____________Empty inside,
except for her finger
_____________Empty inside,
except her lover’s tongue
_____________Empty inside,
except for a paying customer’s dick.

In the religious right,
she wondered why she was wrong

And she’d hope to keep this face
of morality,
immortality all night long.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s