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Into the Dust we fall;
Our lungs void of air.
As sweat beads down our brow,
Our muscles ache for relief.
Into the Dust we fall,
As our captors scrape us to our feet.
She’s my favorite of the five senses
Sight, smell, sound, taste, touch
Her face scrunched up
Grabbing at the pillows
Grabbing at my hair
Pause in the mirror
Stare into the heart attack waiting to happen
Smack flab lost in the caramel center
Drunken slurs slosh and slip from innards thrown outwards
Red.
Redder than your flushed cheeks.
Redder than the blood that pulsed through your veins.
Red.
Red.
Redder than your used lips.
Redder than the marks that were scattered across your neck.
Poor little whore boy,
You sit there in your office,
Reviewing your files.
Looking for your next case.
You're a bitch.
You're a cunt.
You're a fucking hobag slut.
You're a motherfucker.
You're an ass.
You're a motherfucking faggot.
I am kind.
I am amazing.
I am a worthy cause.
