Them.

Diminishing perfumed
existence,
staunch gruelling,
sessions of torture,
the guilty filled bodies,
behind the bodices,
the sweat evaporating,
through the pores,
large enough as holes,
while pursuing,
the sweet,
decaying scent,
of the hollowed,
burrowed existence!
shabby merchants of lust,
alone the woman lay
as if in rust,
lost and found,
behind the stark,
bold facades of the skyline.
why does the stigmata
on her scarred body,
lay unseen?
why does the girl's cry
lay unwanted,
to the unshaved,
drunk figure?
the perversion,
of the customers mind,
the tired fragile bodies,
lies awake,
to dizzy lights,
of this phantom society..

-S.S.S(26.9.09)