the following stream of concious is based upon the diaries of a refugee I read about in Manchester's 'Metro' paper, a feature on the cruel goings on of the people traffic/sex trade.





ambrosia to the ears


Part One (last time)- the dream pimp

I count our togetherness
in half hour segments
summoned like a castanets
click at the heels
one call and I’m there
crawl for you
run for you
fetch for you
jump for you
sing for you
wing for your prayer
you bled me spiritually dry, youre gone
I banded for gold
you held me high enough
but not long enough
hold
seemed a century
3 years
and in your words
only one was love
I was oblivious of course, he’s gone
a sycophant
to the disease that developed
between
a disease
unaware
never questioned
when asked to crawl on knee’s
left me penniless

Part Two (up) - the giving for need.

here is my body ?" take it
here is my hare ?" rake it
this is my body
god forsake it.

Part Three (dom)- the harsh reality and the realisation

I’m just a number
I can do 4 in a day
6 showers
ill wash them away
all the cavities
all seed filled ways
mean nothing
the moments are lost
the cost of Kleenex
it’s a clinical
I never think of England
I’m never cynical
I smile
but never mean it
and I’m always clean shinned
this skin
and sheen
 it beams
brighter than laundry
as I wash the soil of you
2 more to go
2 us up ill throw
this backgammon party
such a skill of words
spit it out
ive seen it all before
don’t blush
and keep your glance from the door
you ain’t going nowhere
the rotor arms of the dishwasher
are working quite well
I can hear them hushing, ambrosia to the ears
escape one day
the sticky plates
are going to be squeaky clean
the spin dry has reached economy mode 6
the candle flame makes
for the loveliest licks
a romantic sandwich
but no one sees it that way
2 in a night
3 in a day
wash the bleeding lot of you away
wash the bleeding lot of you
stop the sticking clot of you
guilt is far from the nodding sway
as I agree with your whimsical ways
you are comical
your under-clothes are comical
your aftershave abominable, Avon
you sham
you shook shock
you well heeled tummy tucked fuck
in a business suit
you clued up, Ku Klux clan
you slip of  man
you hairy beast
you minge lickin feast
I feel you, fest!
yet feel nothing
you, an animal, invest in heaving
pump bullet never fly straight
sweating
I am caged
you think I love it
but hide a face deranged
as always
grin and bear it
ill make you special
but you’ll never know
one day
ill get out
one day close the legs
stop the telephone touting
you look me up in directories
I’m a number
a vasectomy of you
I perform
a nagging norm
conform to your
expectations
double penetration
of 3s up, 4s up
every muscle tunnelled sensation
cigarette burn out, number up
I clench for you
7 up
make it narrow
like sticking insects in glue
stick insect extracted flue
you toss, writhe so slow
attend to me
as though hiding your love away
cant quite shake the dirty feelings
what would she say if she walked in
right now
the clucking cow I am
yet silent rocking
even my sexual screams
mean nothing
even my wide cues are narrowed
when your touching me
wincing
every so slightly

wincing

Part 4 (ever, thee) - regular client

I try and hide the disgust
try and make em trust me ,come back
needing nice ones as regulars
but they never are, the sickly sweet words they utter
seem to be the stammering clutter
of their life's frustrations
like shop floor managers
bullied men taking it out on me
they are all middle class
I love the glass of your BMWs s
electric and smoked out
you park it outside
I hiss in the dope of it
you peel and poke at it
piss in the smoke of it
don’t be so rough
its just the nervous toughness breaking down
boy
think of me underneath
disband your spent sheaf boy
wilted
idiot
tosser
a cut cougher, excuses
leave
im just a number.

Finale

typing to escape.
using fingertip and internet cafe
between body drapes
in-between clients
and email
out there
somebody hear me?
someone honest
see me?
and not a monster
someone real, a picture
believable
a real name and never evil
taken over them
please?
carine, 22 years old
honest and hard working
seeks geniune human for love and life
to share the dreams sold
at border crossings

careen@so_openly_alive.co.uk

----------------------------------------------------


2009 P Crompton