Walker

She floats up and down the heartbreak sidewalks
Hungry, looking for the golden ticket from the
Next john that might not hurt her but instead
Rescue her from the depravity of the life she lives.

Everyone is happy, everyone is free, she thinks
Coasting and mingling with her fellow walkers
Of the night....a typical situation....she vibrates
And is alive with her erotic beauty and she

Is frightening to look at in all her glory....Only
If she had glory, to leave this tunnel of love
That never ends....her Ned to produce, to
Buy the little vial of prudence, is foremost.

She bends over cars smiling, glowing, so 
Sincere in her effort to offer the family man theFantasy of rebirth and explosion of a frenzied, Sweaty moment to be sent home sated and guilty.

She is so lonely for what it used to be like....
Was she ever a child playing with strings and
Golden things or did she just one day manifest
Herself into this life of solitude and ugliness?

Daylight comes blaring the start of another
Dingy day and crystal pipes to ease her
Guilt and shame with the knowledge that
Darkness will come and she will walk her mile.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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White Avatar
March 2, 2017 at 1:45 AM
Truth can surely be ugly!
White Avatar
February 20, 2017 at 1:21 AM
That's a good picture of how it seems, isn't it? Great imagery in this first poem of yours. Love the inner rhyme here and there. Welcome to PoetrySoup, I am sure you'll like it here :)
Heil Avatar
February 19, 2017 at 10:13 PM
Truth can be ugly!
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