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Day Job.....
the life of a prostitute..


She sits in the
window, watching the
sun set, brushing her
hair the golden
sunlight shining through the
curtain of hair hanging from her
fingers holding the
brush as she prepares
herself having washed her beautiful
body and satin smooth
skin smelling so good, so pure so
clean and fresh to
start as the day grows
cold the night will grow
hot she thinks as she
drinks to forget what is to
come as she wishes
she could find another way to make
life pay but there is no
way but the path
she is on with plenty of
money flowing like a
river of men through her
body coursing like the
drugs through her
veins as she buys more and
cannot stop working the
night to pay for the day to
make it to the night to be
used as an object and
thrown away never to be
talked to no one to
listen to her no one cares as
long as she has her body
silky soft and clean to
start the night and wishing for a
day job.


eb 28 Oct 2003 east london

 

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