Unnamed Prostitute

her drugs and anger draws her
restless smile, it is here where she
find her straight jacket, and the
openness of a wingless bird, her
drugs and anger become more like
dust, and her, the unnamed prostitute,
waiting for the drugs to do their stuff..
and her thoughts are wrapped in
linen, and her body, , empty.....just
like the bottles of pills..

poem by David Gerardino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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