Ms. Bitter Sweet Molasses

Vultures circle incessantly
Around the mort flesh of innocence,
Decaying in your’ brothel bed.

Ms. Bitter Sweet Molasses
Pyrite in the gold at hand.
You trade yourself to failing hearts,
A sinister surveyor of malicious lust.

The past you may have had,
Forgotten at the door,
Dormant in the hunt
Of corporeal indulgence.

She sheds so many tears,
In-between the propositions"
Of twenty-four hour shifts.
These dehydrated specs of dust
Dissipate in vain.

Her loneliness in poverty,
Spoon fed by a lover,
Who ceases to comply.

“She doesn’t do a thing for me,
I’ve known of her identity,
And still my love runs dry.”

And so he leaves,
A cowboy on a guilty quest,
A shark within the depths.
The valiant knight"
Whose armor shines so black.

She services her final friend,
A hooded man in white attire.
His hand so cold,
And lips so dry,
Revealed to her,
The salvation of a poison kiss…