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Mousing

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The neighbors are fucking again.          
One slab of meat slapping off the other:          
greedy, porcine. He grunts, she grunts.        
         
My cigarette heats a fingernail      
bringing me back to my own frigid hands.   
I ping it far enough to land in their garden.        
         
She squeals; her Polish is music. I wonder  
if she sounds like that when he's out of her.  
I see my empty bed and my eyes fall  
cuntwards.        

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Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 

Comments

I have no criticism of this. Just appreciation, and some envy, its so good.

Respectfully, Jim

"Laws and Rules don't kill freedom: narrow-minded intolerance does" - Race-9togo

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/Race_9togo

Thank you so much, Jim, for passing through. It's appreciated!

author comment

Raw emotions and feelings expressed without mincing words.

Regards,

raj (sublime_ocean)

Thank you, Raj. Glad you came by.

author comment

Reality is such a harsh thing but in poetry
is really quite beautiful,

thanks for sharing this slice with us.

Richard

Ahh, yes. Reality is a bit of an enemy at times. And that cigarette was the best weapon I had at that moment ;)

author comment

A good visual of someone that is alone, where just the heat of a cigarette brings back reality,
Yours Ian.T

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There are a million reasons to believe in yourself,
So find more reasons to believe in others..

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