Broken
Location
The entertainer on the stage
Looks me dead in the eyes
Then yells
And says
“What the fuck you lookin at?”
Awestruck
In distress
I knew
No one
Was coming to my rescue
Planted front and center
Face to face
With the heel of a stiletto
I blinked and it blinked back
Yeah, that coochie rose
My eyes open wide
Shame on me!
For softly gliding my vision
Over curves and crevices
And stifling every nuance
Who knew
I was this sick and vile
Treasure hunter
Ready to conquer vessels
Smother dunes
And ruffle up bushes
How insensitive of me
Not to come to her rescue
And save her virtue
How could I miss the message?
Hidden in her strut
While distracted
by her oily perspiration
and the glistening
which seemed like remnants of constellations
At what point
Did her pulse begin to flat line
And stiffen her stance
As members rose in salute
And so she positioned herself
Firmly and surely
In her welcome the world pose
Apparently showing up
Unannounced
Was not welcomed
And my salutation
Unamusing
I guess my bill was only worth a peek
Not a stare
Not a glare
But little did she know
Of what I seek
You see,
My charity wasn’t in exchange for treats
It wasn’t a thank you note either
It was a toss into her wishing well
So that she may somehow save
Her peace from the hands of hell
And hopefully listen
For the long awaited silent rescue signs
Muffled ever more
By the breath of serpents
Lurking every which where
But that filthy bill
That landed at her toes
Carried more weight
And was as heavy
As all bills she’d over collected
Put together
And she’d find out too late
Her stare hid dark secrets
And cover up was no match for
Her bruises, cuts and scratches
That ring around the neck
Spelled mischief
Not cheap costume jewelry
She could not get past my stealth look
Or the beard
Or the curls
It reminded her
Of what she’d returned too
After she collects
And gets on her way
Back
Before arriving
She detours
For fixes
His and hers
If only
Those fixes
Fixed what’s broken
She’d stop chasing rainbows
And poison her self a little less
With no one to turn too
The bills in her pocket
Allowed her to mitigate
The cracks
And whips
And blows
To follow
Every morning
From the stealthy, bearded, curly haired
Terror
Routine
By this point
Turns to destiny
And honey
Shakes them cheeks and thighs
In exchange for later’s cries
And that’s her demise
The cynic maniacal
All the while
Is so pious
In his eyes she’s the sinner
When every night before dawn
She’d lust and toss and turn
In all the wrong places
And so his greatness
Disciplines such actions
And so as long
In return, exists repent
Forgiveness is granted
This relentless confiscation
Of her inner and outer skin
Sheared her relationship
From her
One true love
From above
And on this night
At the end of her set
She collects
All her bills
Even mine
And off she went.
She’d stumble all the way home
Of course
Stopping
For a fix
Pocket was not as full
And so she’d do a favor
For party favors
And she’s out of gum
And prides and joys
She decides to carry home
She was tired
She was bitter
She was broken
The door opens
The stealthy, bearded, curly haired man
Sitting there
On his favorite chair
Like a child waiting for milk and cookies
Looked on in a daze
While dehydrated and in need of a magic moment
She gestured and lured him in
He slowly creeps to her
Not knowing what to think or do
But express his phallic manhood
He grabs her forcefully
Caresses her neck
Goes for the throat
And forces his way into her mouth and
Swirls his tongue violently
Tasting something rancid
He tries to pull away
She locks her legs around him
Dumping every pride and joy she carried
Into him
The rage was like no other
This was the day of reckoning
He’d get his fix on first
And then got to it
First taking all her money,
The very little she had
And noticed the bill
That bill with all the weight
The bill that I tossed into her wishing well
Words did not follow
Slap
Crack
Whip
Slap
Crack
Whip
Slap
Crack
Whip
Slap
Crack
Whip
Whip
Whip
Whip
She drops to the ground
Notices all her bills
On the floor
He begins too
Choke life out of her
She doesn’t fight back
Blood clouds her vision
And she’s face to face with the bill
And as she’s gasping for air
She shakes her head
So that blood flows
In another direction
And on her last breath
She read
“I’m not that guy”
“I’m not that guy”
“I’m not that guy”
“Call me”…….
“I can help”
I guess I did.
-Salvador Martinez