absentee

wakeup to remember lastnight.
with one sleep encrusted eye to open
greased on kohl eyeliner
smudges past two eyes
glitter gutter.
high heels still on
discoteque pink plastic
with a pimk indent on the ankle
a figure on the floor
hair matted lipstick stains
this lipstick
on his stomach too
itch your face with red trash
catch a whiff of your own breath
almost gag

this is not the place to be
stand up, wobble
wait for blackout to cease
grab coat and sticky 100 dollar bill, he wont mind
feel hair stiffly hairspray
open the door screming dirty wind
beathe in exhaust fumble
drag that cigarette
defeating the purpose of a dirty city
walk down the street taking it in talking it in
a streaking sunrise

the pieces of newspaper looks like birds, if you squint
a screaming prostitute never looked so beautiful
blue sky crisp
salt water scent
birds laughing at the lack of clothes
towering buildings last forever
on a downward slope until concluding with the ocean
that my eyes feast on
there's something about the morning after nothing
that makes everything a bit more beautiful.

Reviews

[Hold Fast Hope]

the story about a prostitute doesn't seem like a poem worth reading, but reading this and the way you have constructed this makes me crave more. you have talent, especially to take an idea of prostitution and creating it into something quite amazing. I can feel the raw emotions in this. Great job.