I need her:
The fat, rich whore
with all her vices
and distractions,
the endless promise
of forgetting and being forgotten,
loved and tossed aside,
and lost to a multitude of sins
where no one will notice–
or even care.
To be blinded
by color and sound,
light and noise,
a vicious chorus of life
careening carelessly to its end
with nothing to stop it,
except when the lights go out.
And she, my temptress,
who seduces me with
rouge and violet,
asphalt and steel,
and all that I am not,
she is my salvation
from a world that crawls along
unaware of anything that it is not,
and in her will I find the hope
of a man unrealized
among stillborn and aborted dreams
orphaned in their infancy.
Babylon calls.
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