Identity

Who are you?
Sherlock trash swaying to vagabond playlists
Late nights without caffeine
Reading listlessly
While the movie-heap keeps piling
I need a drink, a rub off, a smoke and a foreign lover

The telephone blips,
A black mirror comes alive.
Far away,
A sad soft-toy sitting on the asphalt
It’s ass skinned off from the cold
The brilliant, broken anti-climax
Sea tastes like salt on her shoulder
When we walked by the boulders, drank cheap beer and tasted each other
In strawberry shaped kisses.

That night, when the record still spinned in a late night eighties disco
The sweet sounds of san junipero
Three times, he came inside her,
Twice, balled up
Reminiscents of dead sperms in
Kleenex
Left a few dollar bills
On the dusty wooden floor
The clock hand whizzed,
Sounds get louder still
The mirror cracked in the
Static after taste
Of falling asleep on the
Keyboard.

In a lazy outback motel, dragonflies and cicadas in the cracked window witness
As her naked body slowly in the
Greasy bathtub sinks.
Downstairs, the cash register dings
A name is lost
Untracable.

Next morning, the old maid finds
A wrinkled white
Girl
Bloated, eyes wide in silent
Death.

No obituary for her,
The manager hobbles onto the pick up after a night of marination in the
Stinky water of the dead fluids of a semi-beautiful girl.
Sticks his limp dick in the now
Dead vagina,
Of a sherlock tumblr trash
In love with a girl
It reminds him, of a dead fish in the freezer
So he quits
After the fourth ejaculation
Her story reduced to
A naked body tossed
Into the swamp
Devoured by fish whose names
Are taught in kindergarten
And later forgotten.

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