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
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
Anatomy a cheap commodity
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
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