Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Dodo draws on the cigarette.
The smoke hits the throat.
The city sucks her in with its
huge sick well of emptiness.
Bagteller wanted her to go
to his place last night and make
passionate love. What a laugh
that’d been. Him and his fetishes.
The schoolgirl uniform was not
her thing. Too many memories.
She told him to stuff that in one
of his tight dark orifices and walked
out into the city’s cold night. Went
home to her own place and took
a hot shower. She is still sore from
the scrub. She wants to scrub her
past away with the brush and soap.
Nothing washes away the memories
that have sunk deep. She wakes to
a new day. The city is buzzing with
the walking dead and half living.
The cigarette smoke fills her lungs
and then out into the air. Mother said
men were not to be trusted. Father
said don’t listen to her she’s biased
and bitchy and smells of sour cream.
Oh that I could open up my mind and
wash it out and not have to see that
shrink once a month just after my bleeds
have gone she says. Dr Glexity with his
black suit and blue tie one green eye and
one grey. All that darn money and nothing
to say. She inhales the smoke and the city
and the living and the dead and sucks them
into her lungs broken heart and stuffed head.