hallowed be the whores, the sugar babies, strippers, porn stars, cam girls
escorts, freestylers--hearts of gold, cold hustle, whom i owe by the dozen
hallowed be the word of the whore, for i believe her over anyone
hollered over too-loud new wave or whispered in the bathroom
“Do you have a minute?” read the email. The Editorial Specialist opened Macrohard Community and saw that he had been assigned a Community Task, which was the same as a regular task, except that its assignment did not require human interaction, virtual or otherwise.
now that he was crisply re-figured at a bus stop on the same gravel shoulder, now that he had earned the insignia, wore the uniform of red and gold, a gold peaked cap over still tangled hair, now that he was raised
She holds up plastic-wrapped wax lips, like the priest with communion, and places them in your bag. “To make you beautiful,” she says. You race home, fish the lips out from the boxes of Good & Plenty, rolls of Smarties, bags of Kisses, and rush to the bathroom.
Standing in the moment, a diamond
Reflects, the romance in waves
Of enjambed ideas, free contours
That do not restrict, but let flowing
Rivers and hearts full of innocence
Meld into a melody of flowers!
I had been staring into the spiraling black hole of my drink, thinking about plunging inward, being torn apart by some unfathomable, gravitational blender, scattering my molecules like countless coffee grinds sprinkled into a mid-flush toilet.