Whore


          I give value 
          Like the preacher 
          I sell vision 
          Like the perfume ad 
          I sell desire 
          Call me a whore 
          but you can't resist my sin 
          the music reverbrates like the howling of foxes 
          crisp as heated metal 
          searing the nostrils, 

          rooting through the debauchery, 
          and the pretense 
          the warting guttarals of speech 
          an exhausted smile 
          Lean close and I whisper 
          lilting and oblique 
          what you seek 

          and what relief 
          do you give 
          carved into my 
          consciousness?


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