Untitled

Loose tendrils of
Smoke coiled around her
As she watched
The two men fight.

They fought often,
Leaving her to nurse
The bruises of the
Body and ego
Of the loser.

That is,
After she made love to
Or fucked the winner.

Sometimes in the tussle
The men would find
Themselves over come by
Their own attraction
To each other.

When that happened
She would play
Her music loud
To drown out
Their groans and grunts.

It wasn't perfect,
It wasn't moral,
It wasn't civil
Or the way good folk
Would conduct themselves.

Good folk didn't live
In the constant seesaw
Of violence and sexual
Gratification, leaving
All parties spent.

If they weren't fighting,
They were fucking,
If they weren't fucking,
They were resting
And healing.

At first, it was interesting,
Then it became boring,
And she threatened to
Run away, but they all
Knew. She was going
Nowhere.

Nowhere to go
Because beyond the door,
Beyond the walls
For miles in every direction
Was a dead world.

And this "paradise"
The three of them created
Was better than the certain
Death from thirst, hunger
And the unknown.

Her attention returned
To the men before her,
The fight was coming
To an end.

She flicked her cigarette
To the ground, then
Made her way to
Her room, trying to
Decide between
Nirvana and Bob Marley.

Between Teen Spirit
And Get Up, Stand Up,
She let her mind
Wander back to the time
Before the end and
The future waiting for
The beginning growing
In her belly.

"Welcome to Paradise 2050.
Welcome to a world gone mad,"
She whispered before falling asleep.