whores (notes)

by mickharris

every time i see a whore i get this funny feeling behind my navel that hooks like when you push into your belly button real hard as a child, just to feel the tingle

that cotton in your throat that crawls up the sides

of pink ridges

blocking

your voice

i still look for the lost

the weary

and holy

Something that they have or that you think they have that you don’t
Something that the johns look for
Funny. I never called them that
Or clients
But hey I didn’t fuck for money
Technically
I was a dancer and I didn’t do extras, no no
I was a good girl and I took pride in that every time someone
Said it

You’re a good girl
Not like one of these whores

But anyway I see them, cruising in my mind in a car with my hips slung low and arms dangling on the wheel, hissing out the window
How much
What do you do
How much for everything

I would say that it breaks my heart
To want them
Or to want to murder every single fucking piece of shit with a dick and a wallet and ten years of excuses sloughing off like the skin they leave behind
Or the sheen of saliva on your skin that you have to catch before it crusts

But truth is it doesn’t break my heart
It empties my soul, slowly
A little drip, hiss here and there
Puncturing a balloon carefully with a pin, just wiggle it through
Hiss hiss
How much
What do you do

And the classic, the bile-churning rumble
Can I have a discount?

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