Fancy Pants

look at you 

with your clean clothes 

and fancy job

I’d bet your hands 

are that of a princess

while my hands are 

scarred

scabbed

callused

you drive a car 

much smarter than you

your meals are 

elegant and costly

you condescend and patronize 

all you deem lesser or beneath 

the wife

basically a stranger 

spends money well

fucks young bulls

the mistress

wears shiny dresses 

high heels

no panties

your cock 

no comparison

falls short to the size 

of your bank account and ego

the whiskey you drink

and cigars you smoke 

are rare and exquisite

that is the only aspect I envy

ol’ bitch hands

The Taylor

(Originally published by Horror Sleaze Trash)

I once thought I was in love with a whore

she was married and fed me a buffet of lies

tales of a separation and divorce

I was a slave to the cunt

a slave to that cunt

many times stuck by the phone

waiting on her call

only to be let down

defeated

demasculinized

a beefcake turned into a cupcake

without a ringing call

this time was to be different

we set up a meeting at the Taylor Motel

a lowlife

low down motel

low on the totem pole of said establishments

I had a few pre-rolls of weed ready

and picked up a twelve pack of

some kind of beer

she said she’d call at ten

I got to the Taylor at nine

ready to get the fuckfest started

I got the key

parked

and headed toward the room

just before I reached the door

an old

white

wrinkled crackhead

with glasses and no bra 

asked if I needed help with the beer

I politely told her no

that I was waiting on someone

as I entered into the disheveled fuck shack

I cracked open a few cans in preparation 

and waited

and waited

and waited

that fucking bitch

that fucking bitch did it again

and that’s when I regretted

not sharing my beer

with the braless 

four-eyed

crackwhore

Charlotte’s Bed

Charlotte grew up a fairly typical American girl.  She did very well in school, was in every major club, and was runner-up prom queen her senior year.  However, she was always drawn to the party lifestyle and guys that were the ‘bad boy’ type.  When Charlotte was 19, she got pregnant from a one night stand and had a little baby girl.  She absolutely adored her daughter, and would do anything to keep her safe and taken care of. 

Charlotte met Dylan on a dating app and she was immediately smittened when she laid eyes on his profile pic.  Dylan had dark hair, a short beard, plenty of tattoos, and was sitting on his motorcycle smoking a cigarette.  She messaged him and they set up a meeting at a local bar that same night.  Charlotte’s mother watched her daughter while she went out.  Her mother thought it was healthy that Charlotte was getting out and meeting people since having the baby. 

Charlotte and Dylan had been spending almost every moment with each other for about two months.  Dylan would stay the night at her apartment most nights unless he had an overnight run to make.  He sold crystal meth for a local biker gang known as the Vile Brigade.  On occasion, he would have to drive south and meet members of the Mexican cartel to make the pick up.  Charlotte knew from their initial meeting that Dylan sold drugs, and that added to his mystique and her fascination with him.  The first night they were together, they smoked meth and had every kind of hedonistic sex imaginable.  She was hooked on both Dylan and the drug. 

There wasn’t a day that went by that Charlotte didn’t smoke or snort meth.  Surprisingly, she managed to keep her addiction under control, attend work, and be a good mother.  That is, until Dylan showed up with a rig and injected the poison into her veins for the first time.  This took Charlotte on a downward spiral into the depths of the worst kind of hell imaginable. 

On nights when Dylan wasn’t around, he would tell a few biker buds to take a little dope over to Charlotte’s place and have some fun with her.  The first few times Charlotte felt dirty and used, but soon the stronghold of the drug made it feel like the norm, and she somehow justified it.  While the gang of bikers each had their way with her, all she could think about was getting that next fix and her precious little girl.  Charlotte laid on her bed spread eagle, being used by a menagerie of men, and thought about her sweet, innocent daughter. 

Dylan was withdrawing more and more as Charlotte was steadily wasting away.  The once voluptuous, pretty girl, who was always smiling, was now turning into a real life zombie.  Her teeth were discolored with rot beginning to set in.  The retail store where she worked let her go, due to her new, scrawny, unkempt look.  She was either on multiple day benders or sleeping a few days in a row.  The sound of a hungry kid was what woke her most of the time.  Charlotte absolutely hated herself for what she had become, but the draw of the drug was immeasurable.  She couldn’t fathom just how low she had sunk. 

As Charlotte laid in the bed, she took a massive hit from her glass pipe.  She slowly exhaled a plume of off-white smoke, watching it swirl and dance before her.  Charlotte placed the pipe on her chest, cradled between two rib bones where her breast used to be, and thought about her daughter.  She pondered her birth, what she would be like when she got older, who she would marry, and what she was doing at that very moment. 

Charlotte wondered if she could have gotten even more money from those men for her.