An Evening of Pawned Pleasures

Soft thunder
face liftA trembling
Her words spoken in hushed tones
Velvety breath vows to cause danger
At the edge of the park, rain
Blossomed on her skin mixing softly with the
Menstrual blood
Diluted emotions running down her thighs
A tale of dark lives
Of unrequited things
Where sex stink becomes kisses
She’s enveloped by the cheap images
“do you like my pic. Want to hook up?
Who’ll be my next victim?”
Back and bottom of the stairway. Hands, biting the flesh
She started to talk in a computer generated voice
She fell under the curse of the watches
“aren’t you going to undress now?”
She notoriously slaughtered 8 though maybe she had over 650 victims
That was when hobos first appeared and shouted at her
A frame freezes
And stills are licked
Nothing but pleasurable.
A house before meeting
A pain of the mental kind as infliction is used and noticed
She was talking to a woman to tell her husband
That a holographic message appeared
Going to watch trapped victims between cars
She told killers ‘liberation’ through violence
She looked almost angry
How they made up an excuse a crisis in Vietnam
Trauma echoing just like America
She looked almost angry at the number of bodies removed
Uncomfortable it would be,
Her husband.
when we fucked startled
and when we shouted at gravestones in North America.
Modern naked taking it all down and
she crawled
and she was going to there
she glanced over quickly she told me how and
excused herself for moaning in ecstasy.

By Peter Marra

2 responses to “An Evening of Pawned Pleasures

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