The Whore: Squeaky Beds and Distant Galaxies

I am not afraid of that which is uncertain
Behind the drapes the sun may rise
Or darkness may pervade forevermore
But in my mental space
A whole new universe
That answers to the deepest of desires
And quenches thirsts of pleasure and relief

My heart is pierced a million times
By the trials of this world
A million sticks a’ pricking at my door
The townsmen gather here today
Demanding justice
For that which they do not know
Empty values in their midst diffuse
Ringing bells and anthems of old times

To them the world is night or day
The sun or moon can only rule the sky
But here behind my drapes in my sweet bed
So many other sons have ruled my day
Until a point where truth is lost between
The opening of my vagina and his pubic hair
A narrow fringe of laughter and despair
Why hate me if I sell my flesh
When the whole world has sold its soul
And pimped its body without care

On this sweet morn
My fleeting body is exposed
To their batons and whips and words
But I still journey in my mind
Seeking truths that everyone has left behind
Wisdom sings with squeaking beds
A million stories to be told
My bedroom is the universe
And when its drapes are drawn forevermore
My body naked waiting to be stoned
I feel content and blessed to be a whore

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Character: 65/100
Dedicated to: Stella Marr (prostitution survivor)
http://secretlifeofamanhattancallgirl.wordpress.com/about/