Shit.

Ass over tea kettle
face on the bricks
you and the gravel kissing
making love in a most un natural way
with the spin in your brain
and booze on your gut
dreaming of the place where one foot on the floor
stops the world
and your dick is not so whiskey
she looks better in the morning
than you remember

Tits made of glass
shattered along with her ego
and the guilt sings
a slave to the bottle song
bile and pretending
bar back in the crack of her ass
and he looks younger than she remembers
but smells of cigarettes and bad tattoos
his postage was paid
by this nights forgetfulness

His mouth on her neck
she is nothing
but an angels halo on the head
of a boar
and his incessant chatter
has the IQ of a fool
the tarot card is reversed
making the babe new
ready to babble
and suckle another broken day