VIRGINS DO NOT EXIST | Chronicles by Godwin Everest | Poetry | PROSTIFESSIONAL SERIES

The end of a night welcomes another
Dim lights hung faded by the sidewalks
Smokes puffed, blended with the night's air
Bodies lay faded on the armed chairs
'No body, no money' is the riddle
That governs this world of hustle

Only if I had known that life was just
A smoky embrace of dead dreams,
The unseen presence of the seen,
A line of poverty
Drawn by defined greed
Erased with bodily purchase

I'm a Prosti-fessional, a destitute prostitute
A child of fate, disEASED by circumstance
Surviving at the mercy of sexual thrills
A life of waking up and making kids

Each night gifts a blend of moans and wails
The painful tears of an oppressed life
Through no fault of mine I suffer
Faced with predicaments and traumas
Body parts are priced to kill poverty
Hazel eyes, hued with texture of apathy

Each night sees my pride of womanhood
Snaking away from underneath my thighs

My life lays abandoned in sweet torture,
Disconnected from the connected
My income is nocturnal as owls and bats
Aftermath, money is provided by sexual acts
Deeper and deeper, organs are drived
For money to abide, the body must die

Tell me I'm not human, maybe from Mars
Tell me I'm an alien without a heart
Tell me that I am no more a virgin
And to your face, I'll proudly depict
They die the day they're conceived.

Actually, do virgins exist?
Are there people who have sex randomly in a year and are not prostitutes?
What do you think?

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