Sylvie Hill

All These Nights

All these nights they come in
And the eyes are open wide
And she sees the guys coming
All night long

And the signs, she sees them
Hearts are open wild
And he never calls it;
He’s always Ho-Hum

Yeah the times they rush in
And the blood it flows in
And it stops as soon and as fast
As the booze stops gushing

Even a body therein
Folded half or splayed out naked on a bed
Does nothing for them
Since she’s lost in thought and…
She starts in and spits on him
And the rub is never a tug
worthy of a Fuck substitution therein

And she throws a condom on him
And she tries it on for old times, then
And tears it off as fast as though
she’s flipping through a catalogue
Yeah?

© Sylvie Hill

Painting: Juan Carlos Noria | “Maybe Everything’s Fake Nowadays” – dixon – www.juancarlosnoria.com — with Juan Carlos Noria.