is this how it is?
watching the girl on the
magazine watching you.
the heat and despair of
loneliness pushing out in
violent need for release and
love only to see the unreal girl
finally spitting in her face in a
moment of pulsing pleasure
sticky residue blotting out
the face of this motionless muse
for the moment and, in disgust,
horror, shame, writing these few
lines of a pathetic existence.
