Legs bowed by time and the endless calisthenics of factory work wobble homeward to shrews meal as she grunts why?

Bits of iron lead paint encrusting lungs already overloaded with nicotine emerge from lips tinctured by thinner juice as she grunts why?

Swollen eyes welcome epistles filled with bad news, bad debts and
Bad times as he struggles for optimism
And the slave mistress spews forth melancholy nothings between shadow kisses.

Subtle urges scream against walls of discontent as famished her gurgles on gruel fuel before sinking into the peaceful abyss of sleep
And she employed in another day of nothing finds room to smile at his feigned metaphors about tired women who do nothing.

His self portrait is only slightly marred by physical pain and she grunts where?

Pointing towards his hip hangs a picture of a smiling face with puckered lips whispering

Kiss…….Kiss…….Kiss