Parties, Beer Bottles, Erections, & Other Sins

If the Earth were shrunken down & down & down
To the size of a dust particle
It'd be one that is caught on the lapel of some philanderer's jacket,
Forgotten to a darkened room in the corner of an apartment where a party is happening.

'How to stop the flow of tears? ', she asks,
'A mask is what I shall wear!
One constructed entirely from bone,
Styled with brushes & powder & things of that nature,
Done up to look just like your own! '.

Intermission:
The forgotten drink merely sits and sighs.
Hidden behind the wine bottle & cigarettes
Away from hungry eyes.
Lipstick marks stains it's skin,
That brief moment of caress,
That brief moment when the blade dug in.
He hatefully mocks the beer bottles & erections & other sins
Because he's been to the end of the party,
He's seen everything.

A man sits in the corner
Twirling a pill between his fingers.
His erection aches between his legs.
He grips it there, he feels it tingle.
He has not yet chosen a victim.
Between the waistcoat smoky haze,
From the fold out table,
He can only gaze.
His hand's staining & marking his suit
From the virgin he laid down last night in his bed,
Where he had allowed her to pick up the slack.
Twirling the pill between his fingers, he thinks,
'Good thing I wore black.'

The woman spilled into her dress
Her breasts on show; torn at the hem,
She can see it, she knows she's a mess.
She throws out her legs, really staircases leading to a room.
To which the door is locked,
But it is all too easily broken in.
Especially by a little white man falling
Into her drink.
'Show her what she's won...':
A night spent in pain
With a man with no name,
Who grabs at her hair & pulls her head back.
Drools on her stomach as she picks up the slack.
Hands staining her breasts.
She can remember his breath,
The heat, all over her.
And that smell, like blood & dead meat.
Scratches, like claw marks, from the wolf's heartless attack.

Intermission:
...And the drink saw it all.
Saw the transformation from man to wolf
As if in a dream.
He saw the sin unfold,
For both her and him.
Because he's been to the end of the party,
He's seen everything.

by Jack Sacchi

Comments (1)

As I said before, Bob Dylan could have written this......