The whore of the town,
selling her cunt,
to the horny old captain,
and his broken band of runts;

The undertaker in town,
selling a coffin,
to the hooker’s young lover,
who couldn’t handle the rotten.

The cabin-boy on the ship,
cleaning the stains,
of blood from his anus,
that he sells for little gains.

The frail little mortician,
painting the corpse,
of the beautiful young prostitute,
diseased and lost.

The profit in sex,
and the business of death,
one for the body,
and one for the breath.

Entrepreneurs we are.
And we are all clients.

By: Viraj Belgaonkar