As long as we can
afford a fineless
subscription to Netflix
we can be assured
that our emaciated
high definition lives
are not falling apart
as much as those
in Series One Two
and then tired sequels
which follow on and on
This life is but a trailer
of endless streams
in which we crumple
on our part-paid sofas
hoping not to be seen

A Courtesan in Croydon

Her mind was turned on
by cocaine and hard cocks
neither of which
she could get enough
In her parted silk gown
she would play her part
going down on men
to quicken their hearts
but not before
a fixed payment was made
and for two hundred more
he could enter unsheathed
A subtle glance at her watch
as he buried his tongue
because time is money
and another punter at one