Home in a Brothel

Alvi Rahmaan • 1 min read

I live in a whore house. It's not the mere purchase of skin here. We have other products too And it's all for free.I sell lies.And I charge 3 facades in exchangeOne for you to pretend you understand meOne for you to think you know meAnd one for you to agree with meI know this guy.He sells thoughts. He talks about souls with me. He believes we don't have one. And I trade my mid day delusions with him.There's this other girlShe sells truth And people buy it in the currency of criticism .They hate her. They judge her. Because she believes in nothing and everything.This man I once came across. He sells smokes and puffs And he will ask for your attention in exchange. He sells his stories. His scars and sins. And we listen. We relate and contemplateIt's a whore house. This world. And I am both a seller and a buyer. I will shred my layers for youIf you pick on my loose threads. I will take you out and buy you smiles If you free me out of this trade. I will catch you in your dreamsIf you come and visit me in my nightmares I will sell you my hushed truthsIf you promise to not return it in cold doubts.Buy my lies. And you will see a token of unpolished raw self of minePackaged with my dried blood and sweat. I live in a whore house. And I call it my home.

Alvi Rahmaan writes for Revlox Magazine across culture, history, style, and sharp long-form reporting. Read more

Contributor to Revlox Magazine

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