and whispered into her ear
that he would rape her and
afterwards would paint her and
Hollywood was never so decadent

but have her he would
because after all, he wouldn't
be setting a precedent
and her tears angered him

as helpless as she was so
he grabbed her waist and
ripped her new pants as he
threw her on an old mattress

and his fresh hashish had
gone straight to her head
by the time she hit the bed
and there were moments of

chaos and a night of dirty
shame but the minutes they
flew by like hours and then
he uncuffed her wrists and

he gazed at her face and
quietly handed her flowers
as she sat on the edge
of that soiled mattress

crying sacred tears and
the flowers fell one by two
from her fingers onto
the carpet and it was then

the stranger appeared
in the doorway again, brush
and pallet in hand and
he whispered softly that

no one should be so lovely
and he began to paint and
with eyes aglow from his drug
he began to create because

he was an artist, after all
and he whispered to her
I will have you again as
he hung it upon his wall...