prostitute

Her eyes… luring..
Searching.. Stalking.. Hunting for mine.
My eyes running.. in circles.. Screaming.. in mute..
Two refugee worlds abandoned and shrinking.
Trying to hide behind blinks.
She’s made of gin.. And wet.. Sweet sugars of sin.
Her lips are flames.. Burning in my brain.
A devil whispers into her ear and.. she smiles.
She licks her pain with vulgarity..
Her tongue is bait.. A fleshed arrow.. Or a distraction..
Dancing and staring at my eyes.
She.. pleading to be destroyed.. Self destructing..
A battered.. Bloodied war worn angel..
Licked by life, lies and kings whose lips slip into routine of slick silver talk.
She is motherless..
Fatherless..
She is dying.. Maybe following ghosts.
She is a radical advocate of religion.. Or..
A murderer of the cross.. The Blood stained stones at Jesus’ feet.
Wingless.. Neurologically neutered.. Lasso lynched by lipstick stained cigarettes and semen strings.. Immersed in such a bestial nature..
And never been kissed.
She is climbing streets and frozen on corners like a terrestrial gargoyle.
With a nose for dna.. Her hair is like dirty honey and smells of the sweats of men.. Salty.. And barbaric.
The Neanderthals in her head.. Try and calculate the Gordian knots of morality.
As the world exhales.. Men fiend and the libido throbs like healthy hearts scattered in ears..
She will be there strutting.. Living.. And wanting to die.