Grindhouse Episode 44

 
The bus stops...  
Those unable
to sate their lust are left
to soak,  in shabby sweat
their mouths willing
slaves, to fornication.  
 
Ride on, they will,  on this  
modernized iron horse.
Drinking,  from the drain
of a madman,  the same  
madman,  who offered  
salt to the gutterslut hype,
needle hangs from her neck  
 
Kicked once,  in the jaw
to watch it fall apart
laughing as she crawled,  
through blood clots
that gathered.
Scraping up bits of joy
to season her split tongue  
as she licked his boots 
 
Now,  she lays tumbled  
in a gown of coarse linen
Tortured as blood leaked
from her ears.
Forced to listen,  to  
the sounds of the creaking  
bed spings.
 
He offers to  ease her pain
with a melody brought  
from deep below his  
rancid gut
 
He sings with a trill  
he borrowed from the skinny  
fuck with shiney Wal Mart shoes  
the one who stores voices  
within his bowels  
Voices of all the ones
 he had slain 
 
He records her final song  
to be played on the carousel
of blue horses whose colors
 run when it rains 
 
HACK  BITS  of   Bone       
 
       through  soured    breath 
 
               Lick the drops my liquid 
 
                   DEATH 
 
       C   R   A   C   K   E   D  
 
                confusion   
 
                       altered   state 
 
              DEEPER  still 
 
                       ASPHXYIATE

This normalcy left unchanged,
as the sounds fade away
like a fog of bloodied ink

I continue,   set out to watch  
Rolling Daisy dance naked
circles with Red Robin  
my favorite peep show
 on 5th and Vine