THE DAY I TRIED TO LIVE
Hand on the back of my head, the back of my throat is sore from sucking his cock, each thrust of his hips like a dull knife. The faint taste of metal in my mouth, spit sparkles like glitter under the low lights. Deaf as the music pulses in the backround, vibrations running from knees up to my spread thighs. White and athletic, hard as the stone in my chest. Breath matching the beat.
Endurance tested, I’ve got the blood of a wild horse. Skinny fingers dig into my jaw, blatant perversion grunting with each skull fuck. My wounds are still healing but the wolf circles daily, drawn to the damaged, like our injuries are delicious, deliberate.
The sun is coming up outside, steel blue skies with no stars, just the glow of major city light pollution and the absence of a brand new moon.
Sleep when the world wakes, with the rest of the monsters hiding in the dark. I’m not afraid to join the masses but I’ve never been a fan of church. Chased to the curb like the whore I am. My own house of the holy, Jesus and Santeria candles keep the spirits away. Safe unless I hang myself out to dry, a piece of fresh meat, honey for the flies. Like I always do.
