una basurita . . .

Broken man I am

Broken man I am, madam
Loneliness paints everything the same
An ugly woman won't matter in this game
I do her with my closed eyes red.

Broken man I am, madam
I can't pay for the time with your body
Or for the drinks this morning early
Today you are well, 'morrow dead.

Broken will, I further sink to decay
I am at ease in all this filthy skin trade
Red light, red light, have a piece of meat;
Filthy floor, cheap curtains, all keys fit.

Your back looks the same as hers and hers
I grab your hips and swell your puffy lips;
The corner of your eyes store no tears,
Broken man I am, the floor knows how.

October 04, 2007