Monday, August 11, 2008


I don’t know why I even bother
I know that for me 11 years of servicing him is more
I call
And I know that even if he calls me back
I’ll be some foreign after thought
Some 3am wind down after the club
Or some midnight pre club ramp up
He always smells of cheap liquor and cigarette smoke either way so I never know
I’m not an idiot
And I know that I like it
But I feel guilty when he’s gone
And the only gift he left was his semen dancing in my stomach
Or the random pubic hair that got caught in between my teeth
Or the cooler smother section of my face where his ejaculated used to be
I know it’s sad but those thing fulfill me
So I call him
Knowing that to him, I am just another hole
That I’m just another mouth feed
That I’m just another one of the ones on the list
The never ending list of the bodies left cold in the trail
I wonder if he ever gets annoyed that this zombie just won’t die

No comments:

Post a Comment