Crimson

The air is heavy with musk That deep sensual scent that wraps around The mind and chokes away sanity It smothers the smell of sweat and cheap perfume As he tries to wipe her crimson from his Starched white collar He throws some lifeblood in red-light's direction He doesn't see her drink his life blood Doesn't feel Anything When (Standing on a raining corner) She asks another man to bleed for her So this man too can taste her crimson He's there staring in the streaked mirror in a cheap motel bathroom Wiping at the collar Wiping at the evidence Trying to hide Behind the flashing neon lights that filter through The cracked venetian blinds.