He pays.
He leaves.
And she bleeds quietly.
Some come for release,
others for control.
Some come to forget.
Some to remember.
Some to be punished.
Some just come because it’s cheap.
It's sin.
It’s not sin.
It’s survival.
It’s escape.
It’s addiction.
It’s barter.
It's bargain.
It's need.
It’s ritual.
Here, bodies are commodities.
Sold by the hour.
Measured by the weight, age and colour of the skin,
freshness of smile,
limpness of resistance.
It is commercialisation of desire
wrapped in lace,
sold in whispers,
shared in commissions,
paid in bribes,
cashed in tips.
She lets strangers
from the corridor of silence
enter in the dark...
Screeching beds,
sweat,
blood and tears - at times
between pain, pleasure and numbness...
He comes. He goes.
But the scent lingers around like emptiness.
The curtain falls, when the last man zips,
And I lay my teacup after that last sip...
Categories:
limpness, culture, desire, kiss, passion,
Form: Free verse
Thank you for sharing your departure.
We fuss over you.
Then we chatter as if you are not there.
Then we sob as if you can hear.
It is like you are under a spell.
And we are scared of your limpness.
Thank you for sharing your purpose.
Whatever that means.
Categories:
limpness, angst, death,
Form: Free verse
Bloody tears still fall, feverish and dry.
The river flows on even though,
I'm already dead inside.
I'm no longer welcome at my own funeral.
I lay still and I wait.
For someone to take the burden away,
Along with my limpness body.
I lay in anguish as the smoking gun fades away.
All there is left to do, is to move on and deteriorate.
Our ghost will not rest in peace.
Our dreams won't be killed easily.
The Red River will overflow.
The truth will be known.
The earth will shake,
From the unbearable silence left behind.
In the graveyard of lost dreams,
The truth dies with you.
Categories:
limpness, anxiety, hurt, longing, pain,
Form: Free verse
Touching you, your skin
so cold, flat, hard
the sickness within you
like muddy water after a downpour,
how could I stay. I could, I could not run...
from the death in your hollow eyes,
the limpness of your skeletal fingers.
Don’t run. Life seeks life,
succubus to the energy of kindnesses, chi.
Stroking your broad forehead
the horizon of beyond comes clear, clear to me.
Yet fear, is all you feel
and the wind of black holes, all you hear.
The eye of I, connects with the we of Thee,
momentarily, rosing a cheek
hesitantly, lifting the corner of lip
as you, through the we
remember He. Touching....
Categories:
limpness, caregiving, death, dedication, devotion,
Form: Free verse