Let The Chill Trip Him

The vulnerable heart listens as he speaks in slurs left behind in haste, tip of a glass, whiskey laced.

Empowerment in his drunkard, staggering left to right, swaying this way and that, I stand stuck to this place, feet firmly planted, poise in my stance and pity in a glance.

Twinkle Twinkle fuck me fifty, had a drink last night, found I liked whiskey.
Whiskey costs a mouth full and my words mean nothing, say but for the sorrowful awaiting a bar stool, as I fall from mine to crawl across filthy cold in search of souls to quench my thirst in empty bottles on the fucking floor.

Rock a bye I stammer to my shadows in faned power, shake of the fist, kissed the cheek of the door geek. Send rose to his cheeks, sickly feeling to my gut clenching and belly aching to unlistening ears.

A man with least contact weak to the calculated hand playing ring a round a Rosie with his emotions.
Had a notion... an epiphany, that men were toasting to the fall of clothes from the woman's spirit, curse her...she only does what you say, what you do. And that makes her less then the gum spit from her mouth and stuck to your shoe as you step over the trash you
take out....
To dinner, drinks....sheets filthy and stained with the bitter after taste that he would say...be anything to feed on her longings....

Had a thought...crossed my heart that angels aren't meant to fall to their knees before those unequal and undeserving but only stand over them, shielding them from the evils that walk in dark alleys....

Only to lead them too the pain they inflict on the unsuspecting ignorant, lest they be idiots....whores...cloaked in the same dressings they ripped from untouched and unbitten skins.

Let them wear the words of the lashed and the victimized, let them be freed from chains of hypocrisy and stand to hold firmly side to side with the sufferings they kissed in thorns upon the head of the brittle heart.

Can they wear the scars as gracefully as we or are men as weak as their ignorant curses and as strong as a few moments in undignified motions pressing a shaky form to bed with his demons never to know innocence in a glance again?
Down on bended knee I sway....

Make the beggars, the takers face the reflection of what they steal, let them see in the mirror the coldness in a touch, force them watch what they wish to hold walk to death on weary feet that couldn't bare the suffering of walking on broken glass you scatter amid the trails of bleeding souls behind.
Let them hold their own heart in their hand powerlessly watching the chill of reality draining its beating...let them seek the same end that was written by the calculated hand that stole all of what was had...
left only sorrow on the nightstand....

Tears to dry in awakened eyes...

Her heart held in her grasp as it takes its leave of absence in a staggered beating step...

Buckle your shoe love...
The fall will smear your makeup...