Wednesday, 9 March 2011

"Leech!" She shouted at her,
"You're living on stolen blood."
"It's love, madam,
not stolen, but borrowed."
"Yes, he lends it to you
out of pity,
But that is due to me,
Hence you are but a lowly thief!"
And with that she branded me.

Imposing skyscrapers
wrought in iron and glass,
gobble up suited-and-booted people every morning
and spew them out like vomit by twilight.
These suits and boots and skirts and heels
go on in a clatter,
unaware of their repeated
Ingestion, Digestion and Excretion.

The fly in my hand
wiggled like a maggot
clipped of her wings.
And I, the sadist,
laughed of the tickle from her hairy body
on my soft palm.
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