Anatomy of a Whore

Anatomy of a Whore

I am married to the vicious night
To the ceaseless ebb and flow
Of wanton lust
Disguised as need.
Men come, men go
Men shamelessly use
And sometimes heavy handedly abuse
This street-savvy woman
Vulnerable
Predator target
A please fuck me,
but fuck you areshole façade.

The seedy punters
Pick and mix
Assortment of life’s distasteful confectionary
Mostly past its sell by date.
Scraping the bottom of the broken biscuit barrel
These broken men
These desperate men
These misogynist men
who throw ten dollars at a vagina
and want their Las Vegas jackpot payout.

I am human
Dehumanised
Anatomy a cheap commodity
Beaten
Bruised
Abused
No finer than a well done steak
Tender flesh, Tasty but tasteless
a personal sex doll
but impersonal,
pecked away by a cooperative of vultures.

I am a woman.
I have feelings.
I bleed.
I bruise at your fickle fists
I hurt when you call me
Bitch
Whore
Hooker
Slut
I hate the smell of you
I hate the taste of you
I hate the sense of you
I hate you
I hate myself.
Fuck you.

But I am an economic casualty
For whatever reason
I need this
A piece of me dies with each punter
Who has a piece of me
Yet I need this
To survive
To live.

© Sarah Drury 2019

6 thoughts on “Anatomy of a Whore

      1. Yes. I completely understand. And there are so many different reasons why they have to. When I was 20 I lived above a bar in an Inner City and the ladies of the night were everywhere. For those women who are still alive today I can’t imagine where their thoughts go…

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      2. I think there is a new wave now of sex workers who are high class prostitutes and there are women who say they enjoy it. But where I live a lot of women did it for drugs money.

        Like

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