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Naive sex worker

*Stream of consciousness writing helped conjure  this  character  that I developed for the short story*


Take me to a place where being penniless is the land of the free.

Pennies should only be sought after a valued thought.

Lift my skirt higher?

Do you really think I can get that low?

I’m too shy to go all Billy bass

to consider blowing some dude in his family car-

in the hope of getting a lyrical limbo.

Or…am I?

credit cards maxed

I hope you get it now.


that’s what I think I would say to the first punter.



Do time for £50?


Take your filthy hands off

Do you get it now?

This life is awry.


They get  to fuck with




Confession -Don’t tell a soul.

If I ever became a sex worker

Call me naive but

I’d make a kiss the most expensive act on my price list.

You know, tongues.

French kissing?



Romance is dead.


Obviously we all we want to be wanted.

Kissing is the height of mind-altering spooning.

Lack of kisses & cuddles can make a  nirvana or dystopia of unfixed abodes

Hearts in denial of their poverty.

whatever happens

I will see some other side.

No throwing sand on a cardboard box, just yet.

Still have  a few tears to battle out.

I do have a decent amount of  self respect.

Where do all the good people go?

Do they become bad?

Be strong little one!

We grow from jungle roots and a paradise nigh off the setting sun

we clap in silence for nature our divine protector —


My prayers are with her holy  Gaia.

Not a 6 inch increment

If I were to self-isolate
I’d  make sure I drip from the right orifice
I’d say, leave the muck
We’ve time to fuck
About in our dirty truck

Followed by a bath filled with rose petals

A comforter spread misted with lavender increments

The black hare
He doesn’t care
He is merely human
She won’t know what to think
She had too many Guardian Angels
Them angles

He is a constant thorn
She will disapropiate
Hey my
Brother, Eish let me make you another tea and I may share a few yarns with you

Paint the roses any hue- the town is full of red-faced
men who do nothing to tame your mews
Some of us have got to say
About something. Kay?

Cos last time I checked Its OKAY to talk, spew, let it all out
Shake your tosser hand
Make sure of that clout you received last night.

I wasn’t there
I don’t care
What the fuck is a silent night
When your body is a constant ablaze to inner trappings of your, inner might

What a sight.

A mind is cleansed by a prayer to shovel it to under nature’soils with a -blackie -the dead knight
He’s no talisman
He was a pet rabbit, not the shaded son’s garden boy.
That is a story where both lived to know what it feels to catch ha fright.
It didn’t start with a waterproof plastering over a burial ground….
It’s my curfew
Self isolate, lick my tail and tell myself self soothing mew mews
(Curfew words) too tired to correct

My simple pleasure is well over due.

On the rocks

Such a sexy little number

I almost cry   out  clocking a  matching lingerie set

Ready for my in

case suite case

I stash away ready  for the moment I hit Downunder.

Laugh at your tears

Say a Huge fuck you to your fears.

This is the week when  bash didn’t do it for me



Pocket pat down

hear a jingle

Family matters is more substantial for me.

Write to recover or die trying to live the life of another.

Freedom will come from sucking the teet from how you was mothered.

Be real


deliberate who you gonna get rid of

You know them Twockers,

those who instigate?

I dilly dally


Cut through the same ally?

Second thoughts

Nah, maybe… another time.

No masterpiece is this stream of consciousness

Too oily for an academic poets diet

Borderline poetry

Keep it on the rocks

Top of the evening to those who think creativity is a bit of alright.