Train Passes

This poem is just one john, one piece of particular violence – but it stands as an experience of what prostitute endure.

TRAIN PASSES

I lay

Never moving

Staring

At the

Window

As

Trains pass

By

Trains going

Through my

Brain

I can

Forget

Forget waiting

In his

Pub

Waiting as

All eyes

Know me

For what

I am

Whore

Bitch

You’re be

Fucked

Good

Tonight

I hear

Nothing

As it

All goes

In

Poisoning my

Soul

I lay

Here

Thinking

It be

Over soon

Watching

Trains passing

Moving

Goods

From nowhere

To nobody

I forget

Going into

His flat

Seeing

Hate in

His eyes

I

Close down

Hope

Close down

Pain

Close down

Remembering

I am

Human

I lay

Here

With him

Fucking me

Good

Good enough

To die

I forget

When he did

Worse

Throwing

Me into

His walls

Fucking my

Anus

Till I

Faint

Kicking life

Back into

Me

Don’t

Die

On me

Bitch

I cannot

Hear

Train passing

Only

Blood in

My ears

Only his

Voice

Commanding me

I know

How to

Obey

All whores

Do

If they

Want to

Live

Even

Though

Death

Would be

A relief

I lay

As he

Fucks me

In

What is

A normal

Way

And

Know

I’m

Alive

Coz

I hear

Trains passing

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2 responses to “Train Passes

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