It’s not always horror fiction for me. Sometimes I’ll take my pad & pen & scribble random thoughts down. I enjoy plucking nothing from the air & making something out of it. If I’m lucky, I’ll finish with a poem. Or a song. Now, I’m not saying that they’re any good. I’m only saying that I’m good at taking my pad & pen & scribbling random thoughts down. So by all means, you be the judge.
I wrote this sitting at a wine bar one night. I don’t remember the wine (a Malbec?), but I remember the imagery associated with this little poem. When I was done, I felt compelled to walk the streets…
CRACK WHORE
Crack whore
wants more
than I could give.
Took all I had
never left sad
knows I’m worse off than she.
Walks the streets
the rain
makes her reflection
look like two or three.
Says she’s sorry for me
makes me think
the tricks
she turns
am I the biggest?
She’s my crack whore
living
while I die.
Pants down
on her knees
sucks my dreams dry
while I fill her with false belief.
Yeah, she’s good at that
better to be good at something
than nothing at all.
Daybreak wrapped in stale sheets
she’s sweet nectarine blush atop cheap perfume skin
yeah, we all wanted more
yeah, I wanted anything at all.
Copyright © 2011 Joseph A. Pinto – All Rights Reserved.
Joseph A. Pinto 
I wondered upon this thru a tweet very random. I like your style
Thank you very much! I hope you come back again soon! =)
Great imagery Joe! Very intriguing, and emotionally haunting.
Thanks for reading, Nina 🙂 “Crack Whore” was one of those things that just popped into my mind; it was too persistent to ignore.