Monday, 27 September 2010


The cosmetic mask
She wore was drawn on for the occasion
Of their love making;
Caked to imitate a tramp’s face
And taste better than a duchess’s looks,
And dressed with tresses
Stretched back and bangled.

He wore a thick fake tan
And on his manicured hands were rings
Especially placed for their weight;
Complementing the cut
Of his pimp’s clothes
Until he was imposing enough
To wetten the deadliest drought.

They tangled for a time
On the mantled bed before he reddened
Her cheeks a little more
With a sweet left hook
And she beat the fuck out of his structured
And well proportioned torso,
And then they fought some more.

War paint ran down
Her stained glass face till you couldn’t tell
Her bruises from the soup of her make up,
And as the breaking of bended rules
Continued they took their tussles to the hot pool
Where, choked up on coke, they remained
Until their water cooled.

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