Room By The Hour Poem by Rickardo BecklesBurrowes

A text, you arrive, lips rips
hunger built crumbling wet across the floor
strangers hunger roughly strips
no names now, whisper words to spell W-H-O-R-E.
Sweat spins four walls, again unmeant
hands twisted to neck, forced inside breathless
by the horned chemicalized high. Stomach to floor ruthlessly bends,
scratching skin to cry sweetly helpless.
No goodbye here, eyes languish in the lie
words patronise the mess left from brutal bodies
as you try to leave the ache you've felt you cannot deny
words capturing these heated stories.