Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

at the city's edge, lies
the secret agenda of desperate men
thriving like bacteria
in the darkness of clenched hands
grasping, as if
they possessed something -
anything...anyone...
a soul to hang one's hat on,
another rung on a ladder, so shaky
so tread worn that you sink
into the quicksand with every step
and if ever you felt the glance of ruin upon you
brother, that was only the beginning
as it clutched at your necktie
that you shouldn't have worn anyway
as any of the boys will tell you
while they give you the treatment
and play each other like chumps
which, let's be honest -
is what we are anyway...
"got a light mac"
her voice slinks into your ear,
your mind
and sets the gears in motion
the darkness beckons from the alley
insinuating...purring...
tight sweater, fish net
silky smooth, squirming
into your loneliness
like a black mamba - the hiss
before the kiss of death
she likes it like that, the sweetest
of retribution, like that -
makes us even steven
sucker...
baby I'm rotten to the core
and won't live to tell about it
if I give you half a chance

love it. lots of impact and great wordsmithing.

~westie

thanks westie.