She lights a cigarette and looks around for a perfect face to take back home, into her empty bed. Too long has passed since last, she dived in lust and touched a human skin. She takes her blame for all of this, she takes the blame. With her desires, wandering the streets in search of one to stay around, but failed. Now strangers act like wolfs, and she’s the sheep, a grotesque image, a cheap revenge. Perverted words that penetrated the normal, angelic memories transformed in porn.
Disgusted he walks in silence from these scenes of flesh on flesh. A fuck without a feeling is a wrong method for healing loneliness. And from far he sees her true nature cleverly disguised over the years in white sheets and flawless actions. Deception hits him to the corner where depression awaits to comfort the stupid man.
She walks the streets in search for flesh. She walks the streets. A soul that died, the body needs pleasure. She strays among wolfs with sly eyes. Men gathering around her hips, forming queues. Ugly peasants staring at her pointed tits. The flower that bloomed was sold to devils so that they can burn every beautiful petal in sinful ways. Love? Died, squashed by societies standards. True love maybe existed somewhere in the days of our fathers but it’s extinct.
Are you there? He shouts in the night but the night is not his friend anymore. Alcohol and drugs estrange people. Cigarettes pop their lighted heads into the dark. He wonders why and how.
Sweat drips on her skin, ugly males pumping vaginas, innocent memories fade, lost between the copulating bodies. She’s in beds covered by other skins. She screams. He sins. She fucks. He drops. She cleans the mess. He vomits the golden years. All of them. They’re in parties.
The sun goes down taking dignity from humans. The moon comes bringing lust to their beings. Special effects arouse the weak. They’re in parties. Blinded by the lights there’s no way to see the succubus and the incubus sneaking to fuck your dreams away.
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