#acall

a call girl and she cries on the fourth floor. 63rd and 1st is nowhere in the middle of who knows? buzz the last dial and you're in a basement. There's a broken bike dead against a torn wall. fifty bucks crumbled in crap. it's bullshit, it's five minutes. nothing special, nothing crazy and you wonder why they mattered in Taxi Driver, Sin City, Whores' Glory, God can only forgive us for we know not what we do. what we do and why we do are two different characteristics that make us the same person. what. you can be rich, order up, hungry all the time and be the creep. a whore in debt, controlled by addiction, her men, her man, Herman the landlord. she likes it but doesn't know that she doesn't, and she's a whore. the why. you're not desperate, you're miserable, you're lonely and you're addicted, too. excuses because nine to fives are 24/7 and the taste of alcohol doesn't do it for you like easy pussy does. easy for anyone to say. she wants to live. it's not her fault the roof blew off after the storm. zone A. a phone. grade K A cup. degrading. a look, a quickie, you cringe, no fifty, no chance but a call girl crying on the fourth floor  in the middle of who knows?