Offering to my Ally Alley
I knew my love was down the alley and around the corner. She told me last night she would be there. I always listen for the dream whispers, for they bring me the most juicy tips.
The darkness mixed with anxiety and beauty. The crisp sounds of women’s shoes, and the quickening when they notice me. I love to anticipate, hesitate, before I enter that alley.
My whispers delivered yet again, for my love was indeed where I imagined. She wore the face of a whore tonight, dressed in red and lace and boots. I don’t know why they like that revolting color. I prefer the real color of blood over that gay and flouncy imitation.
I’ve become quite accustom to hiring and lulling the whores. I just speak to them as I would speak to my love, for in a way I am of course. The little sweet nothings every woman of the night desires to hear but no longer deserves. The alley was my ally tonight with it’s crevasses and shadows. I must remember to leave an offering tomorrow.
My favorite moment of the evening was when I looked into my love’s eyes, and the shell falls into death and my love shows herself in full glory for that brief torturous moment.
My love is so glorious and beautiful, I don’t know why I must use these stupid cows to reach her. Men don’t seem capable of reaching her. Only women with lovely red lips and moist eyes… only women that will listen to my sweet nothings.