BONE DRY DEAD!

The woman awakes to sparks and night noises.
Rising, she quivers with anticipation, ready to begin.
At this hour the streets are savage and hungry.
Alleyways hide illusion in the abyss of darkness.

Running her eyes along the shadowed lights
Reflecting off discarded cans and bottle shards
She looks for droppings: an accidental dirty dollar
Or a quarter, nickel or damned dime! Something!

The carnal reality is that her flesh is a blazing need.
"Drugging" is a full-time occupation, can't keep a job.
Have to find a "squat" or it'd be another night spent
In the rain and wet cardboard. Stop fucking screaming!

The demon must be fed or it can get real crazy,
Real nasty, real quick...then she'd be dry heaving
Shaking and slobbering and...what the fuck was that?!
No way to distinguish the demon freaks from human freaks.

She heard the torturous whimpers, goading whispers 
And vile suggestions that stir up false courage and threats:
"Steal it", "kill it", "sell a piece of you", "just get it",
"Get it NOW!" or "you'll be bone dry dead!"

Soiled and raw, her instincts were cringing as ghostly
Apparitions moved closer in the murky twilight.
A sudden strike from behind and she goes down...shit!
Next time she'd be more careful; must have tripped.

Wow, something was different, she could see herself
Lying there staring upward wide-eyed; then flawless waves
Of ravaging comprehension finds pure sound as she moans.
A red, welling pool begins to flower around her twitching body.

Defeat's rhythm purposely pumps out her life into the storm
Drain and drips over its lip to mingle with the offal beneath.
The man watched the drama play out curiously touched 
By her last smile...he killed because he could.