From the stables of REDInks Media comes another chapbook...
It's been a long time off the grid of poetry and bars...

We are the same as your wives
With thighs opened like bread
We accept the butter spread by knives
We mask our pains behind the pleasure lend

We are the same as your sisters
The ones you refuse to call your own
But the main attraction for your show
We are the useful trash you call litters

We are the same as your daughters
We whisper pleasure to your boredom
We are the pathway to your unholy altars
The only card drawn without need for luck

We are the hands that caressed broken joints
The fake moans that pleased flaccid rods
The real actors who perform bedly stunts
We are two names for one beautiful pod.