To dine in the dark alone is ludicrous

Pretty (sometimes erotic) Poems

‘Dinner-time. Hunger strikes’.

Burning smog covered the black British sky

Dulling the crisp shine of the attractive-circular moon

Southern fried chicken flavored mist

Tingled against the tangled nostril hairs

Hardening the boneless piece of flesh

Tucked deeply in the darkness of worn-out denim jeans

Stiff and standing still

Ready to eat

Ready to kill

Oh my, she’s a pretty little thing!

…I wonder…

To dine in the dark alone is ludicrous

To not dine at all is inhumane

To dine or not to dine

With an erection?

A question hard to hear

But see and want to feel I’m sure

 Does offer a much more pleasant snack

“Will you come dine with me?”

She catches a glimpse of something raw

“I don’t eat meat”

She replies

“Niether do I”

I say with my eyes forced to her thighs

This menu is easy for me

Lips, thighs, buttocks and eyes

But my turn has gone

And some grease-gut has pushed in front

I rock him backwards with a thought

Cough on the back of his neck

And run out the door

Food is everywhere in London

The fog has cleared for all to see

Rats are fucking in the alley ways

And eating much more than we can afford.


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