Purple and Red

a Mongoose-faced, little tart
rather red in high heeled shoes
mouth painted deep red
like spray painted graffiti
it was all for that...

willowy rather pale specimens
laughing like satiated vampires
wobbling on stilettos
the cheap ones
with plasticky sheen

he hovered near them
puppy dog eyes
dewy with want
his pants tented
admiringly persistence

his three children
would make do with water
a bit of porridge
some square rather hard
biscuits

as he frittered his month pay
on the simpering little one
with thin agile legs
scissoring his ample waist
heaven his thrusts sang

never saw his children awake
never saw how they grew up
only noticed his wife's scrawny
neck, as she drew down her meal
to once a day

she worked in the inn
washing the sheets
cleaning scrubbing
supporting her children
never getting any loving

he worked hard for his hardness
he sat on chairs with bare bum
watched them milk him
in more ways than one
he forgot his door

until he felt his rashes
grow from thighs to groin
his hardness raged on
but ugly red and purplish hues
coloured his member now

home he went to cry
for sympathy for succour
for help for gentleness
no one was home
it was as silent as a tomb

his children grown
had flown the nest
his wife had left
with the youngest
to live elsewhere
in comfort

for years had flown...
he cried with regret
in that little shack
looking at rice crumbs
on banana leaves.