THE OLD SEX DUNGEON

Blessed freedom. Sweet indulgence. Matter of factly, I've paraded my body around town like a nun for almost seventeen years. Imagine that, wrapped in a shower curtain like a fairy godmother. I've owned this shop since I was forty four years old, the old sex dungeon. A special place to be after dark, if you've heard em tell. Make magic out of molasses. Plenty of asses to go around, too. Sign em up, suck em off, but don't forget to take their money. It's all part of the trade. For the sake of the song, she cried to me when I wouldn't pay up. That was the worst night of my life. I was left alone in the apartment for the next eight days. Imagine that. Crazed by the silence, into the nightmare fog worsening each day by the savior's lack of grace when he fell at the bottom of the ocean like a battered corpse of whale bone drifting slowly in silence. Dread essence of the void, pounding at the flesh made light of letters and marriage to moon and
parroting sparrows in savory essence of matriarchal paradise. Matter of factly revealed to the worst offenders is the automatic pistol whip wanted for murder in the tri-county mega corps chasing hunger by moonlight like wolf man in vogue shame of laying alone by the river but it's actually a movie set and you're always alone there anyways. I hope you like what you see. I await your review.

-GD