Call Girl Storm

the Purple haze

The red blaze

we march forward !

criminal metabolism of guilt forest

Rattlesnakes whistles castanets

the filthy mirror

remove me from the hall of glass

are you she 

is she you

how could you be

when no one could

Poet of the call-girl storm

She left a note on the bedroom door.

"If I'm out, bring me to."

I dropped by to see you 

late last night

But you were out

          like a light

Your head was on the floor

& rats played pool with your eyes

Death is a good disguise

for late at night

Wrapping all games in its calm garden

But what happens

when the guests return

& all unmask

& you are asked

to leave

for want of a smile

I´ll still take you then

But I'm your friend