“Stiletto Blues”
By Chantale Reve
Copyright © 2010 Chantale Reve
Smashwords Edition
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I'm tripping tonight on a neural loop,
Hiccups in my short-fusing memory
That I can't for the life of me
Repent, ignore, rewrite or undo.
Wandering the seedy end of rue Plaisir-ouest
Nails scraping the brick exterior of trendy Club Marseilles,
I’m skulking in and out of dark, damp storied alleyways,
Destined for a dead end that leads me straight to you.
Whispers off centuries-old cobblestone wet
From sadistic pelting rains disguise
Swishing of black-fishnet-trapped thighs
And stilettoed steps stalked by a diligent duo.
You rise amid trash cans like a feral cat,
Hunched back casting a menacing shadow,
While a blind saxman by the bulging river blows
Away his pain with Formaldehyde-liver blues.
Beneath the ancient and indifferent glow
Of a sea-green Art Nouveau street lamp,
You tick-tock-watch me turn acrobatic tramp
Contorting like a yoga ho till my orifices get used.
Shaft brushing balls, cheeks clapping, syncopate into the night
As knobby cocks thrust ass to pussy curbside in St-Germain.
Repeated cries for mercy waver twixt pleasure and pain
From foreign fingers, lips and teeth marking my flesh on cue.
Erotic frisson deafening me to twin rumblings against pink walls,
Geysers shooting up my canals after dogged double penetration
Within prurient proximity of your emotional alienation,
I shudder on a gutter as you jack off from your vicarious screw.
Drained of tri-cum and guilty tears emptying into the Seine,
Wrapping the remnants of my conscience ’round a new mind-set,
I'm reflecting on how a repression-liberating orgy shall remain
A constant battle against conformity, flogging me with feathery regret.