The Taste of Rage

Laden with hungry fingers and a thirst
for Jim Beam, you skulk through
murky nightclubs looking for a dimly lit
blonde to awaken in the middle of the night.
You eat up the thrill of drunken sex and 
fuck in hotel rooms paid for in cash,
twisting beneath sheets stained with indiscretion.

Continue reading “The Taste of Rage by Susan Richardson”