A slut, a whore.They shouldn't force us to look at him.I have no doubt that the final poem came from Debz, she is grinning like a Cheshire cat.So much...skin, kinda like a blank canvas.Oh how I would love to see you bleed.Not to cause you pain.Just the brightest pleasures.Steel needles through white skin, red flesh hidden underneath, A spark plug in your veins.So much skin to draw on, to trace ink across, underneath.Patterns reflecting the sky, All leading to your center.Not you heart or belly. The girl walked up the short flightof stairs up to the entrance, totally ignoring the sign proclaiming whenthe building was open to the public, and walked inside. Once again the hotair was exchanged for a carefully controlled and pleasant cool as shestepped inside, and a thick carpet under her feet extended the length ofthe hallway. The hallway sported well-crafted wood interiors, and severalwide stairways led up into the building. Right next to her was a receptiondesk, and a pair of security. More

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