Things That Bang

Is there any reason why I should like you? The night makes the world look different; it hides all that revolts in the morning sun. Sensibility is lost and temptation gained in the darkest hours; the darkest needs realized and the pleasures of momentary interactions are forgotten in the musty sheets of neon blinkered motels.
Vacant soul occupied by lust dies the next breathed sigh. There is no reason for you to like me. No reason for you to remember the bumps on my back, the scars, the warts.
Wrapped in our worlds we stare and wonder do we talk- post coitus? No reason for words to be exchanged. I stare vacantly at the fan lazily twirling on the ceiling. The door closes and you leave. I smile and stare at the money left on the dresser.