INDECENCY

 

           
                                                   He felt he had left behind
        Something somewhere and he didn’t want to give it a name.
        But the scent of a perfume APT had once ‘introduced’ came
        Back to Benny brooding between Arne’s office and his own,
        And the sweet stink stuck up his nose – just as a herring-bone
        Once had in his throat, making him cough till his eyes turned red
        And the only things that helped were eating a chunk of bread
        To force the fucker down, and hoping he’d shit it out whole
        Without bloodying up his ass-hole or/and toilet-bowl

                                                 ~

 

           Thus in the space of a few confident-looking strides did
        Benny’s buzzing mind plunge from its memory of Forbid!
        (The perfume) into the numb hell of his fear of blood, his,
        Seeping tell-tale from his veins, and all because of one kiss
        That had tasted like flat beer or Coke that has lost its fizz.

                                                 * 

 

        Dammit, the bitch had let him go that far, at least after
        A couple bottles of expensive plonk.     But her laughter,
        When he tried to slip his tongue between her tight lips and teeth,
           Had been cold enough to make Asher need to reach beneath       
        The restaurant-tablecloth to feel if his cock was still
        There  

                                                 ~

                                                                     
        And for him to spill red wine, and have the snotty waiter
        Fussily make little of his gaffe, made Benny hate her,
        The bitch, for being rich enough to choose to not to be his
        Whore but to keep him hers.

      (from *fatima solagua arterra’s nudes* by Brian Chan, 2015)