Ensuring I retch from these obsessive material dolls,
make-up caked, lips blood-red, eyes in black,
doll-face fucked like a plastic blow-up.

Legs spreading, mouths slavering dribble
endlessly washing more crap down chin,
pretending to love like lesbians
to groom themselves down for the night,
no idea what any kind of natural emotion is on about.
Utilising each other as fuck poles
to draw the attention to self
becoming a dominatrix dance of sadistic sex,
dance floor whore lost in a matrix of techno, electro shock.

Shaking booty like volcanic lava in flames
on a landslide to an ocean of hissing salty waves
girls popping pretend pills in a viewed attempt at ecstasy,
the toilet door will be thumping,
rumps will be a pumping
when the nightclub floors are trumping.

She wants to be laid,
on her back with the guy
she hopes is just a passer
so she can blame him for her lack.
of mentality
of intelligence
of everything bar the superfluous.

is she so fucking good?

Doll-face getting fucked like
your plastic blow-up,
inflatable, deflatable,
however the hell you want her.

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