The world denounces hope a sham

Pointed straight at bedlam,

And faith mere laudanum

Applied to quiet the choleric bum.

Sex is dirtier than before,

Even when she’s not a whore—

I take her at night,

But never will the sunlit sight

Of my evening mistress be

Welcome nor pleasant to me.

-

So, to solve my acute distress—

Dissolution seems fit to redress

An upside down, unlit world

And a life that was hurled

Upon my shoulders!

Resolution molders…

-

A drink from the merry bottle, full,

Takes the edge off of dull

Reminiscences. Dissolving into ales,

Amber at first, then perfect pales,

A stout to feed the body’s fires—

No meal my body ever desires,

Dissolving in scotch.

Drunk, my urges debauch

Sensual figures along the bar,

Some beautiful and some far

Less attractive than I’d hope to see

In the morning next to me.

-

But, the beauty of booze lies

In its ability to disguise (size),

Making all the world seem pleasant,

Although, at present,

Even drunk—this—girl—is—ugly…

Although…she is willing to take me,

And though tomorrow her favor

Will surely rancor,

Tonight her large body’s service

Pardons the vice—

I make my choice,

pull her in close—

she has been looking for the moment

to make me her post-desert present.

-

Resistance to her wiles upbraids

Me, while she urges me—alcohol fades

my self-image photographs, color

becomes a blurrrrr—I slur

my speechwordssybalullstogether,

as all the colors fade to gray,

she paints over top with her gay

smile, peppy hand draws me to rest

with my head on her breast—

another drink, and I feel contented

to accept what I resented.

-

I know I don’t want her,

But…her lips smother

My desire, my protests are drowned—

Just off of my tongue, the sound

Travels only as far as her tongue,

Resting against mine—the night is young—

No need to hurry I whisper,

Distress sounds flirtatious in her ear.

-

She murmurs in reply—

You torture my eye,

Warm my ravenous body—

Oh, how your words fuel me

Though I know I should resist,

Equally I know you won’t desist

And I am too drunk, too apathetic, too

Distorted to repel …

you…

-

Oh, I need urgency says she,

But I need a drink (I reply) before we…

A drink! Get him a drink! Says she,

Glug…Glug…says the whiskey.

Ahh, it must have been an angel

that brought the whiskey I tell

her, she titters, aware

but she doesn’t quite care

that I know she doesn’t have wings,

nor does the sun shine when she sings.

-

Urgency she whispers in my ear,

Urgency…quite my objections disappear,

I trust her arm up the stairs,

Trust—alas—her hand bares

My shoulders, arms, and chest

Slowly, quickly she undoes all the rest.

Blissfully, she undoes herself, too,

For I mutter I’m too drunk to undo

All your tangled trappings—

She came prepared, complete with wrappings—

Disease and pregnancy no longer bar

Lust, or mar

Sensations as her lips peruse her prize,

Especially once warmed to size

She begins to squeeze

Me, does not hesitate to seize

Her apparent, unobstructed opportunity—

Over the next half hour she conquers me.

-

You move with…urgency…

Her breath warms my neck, not unpleasantly,

Conquered, my resolve falls asleep

While the rest of me lets her keep

Me for a little while yet…

She takes all of me that she can get...

Still whiskey-eyed she slides me inside,

Taking me again, urgency aside.

This time I feel her dominate my drives,

Her sensual rhythm revives

Me. I enjoy her more conscious, in the dark

I know she’s not a sweet-singing lark,

But…caught in her fine rhythm…

The clock strikes three a.m.

We finish—she sinks into the bed,

Her hand cradling the back of my head.

-

A glow lights the sky, threatening to break

Dawn, and I look up, find her awake,

Gazing at my limp body.

I repress thoughts telling me to flee.

Can I ask you for one favor,

Dear? I whisper—

Yes, ask me what you will

As long as you remember last night still.

I do, the night treated you well,

So I ask, before the spell

Is broken, and morning casts its shadow,

Please get dressed, kiss me before you go,

And let the night rest in peace.

As if taken by a sudden caprice

She stands up, stroking my head,

Do one thing more, before I leave your bed—

-

Without finishing her question, her hand

Reveals what she had planned.

It is only fair—she used me kindly—

Laying atop her, she pulls me

In to complete the desire she felt last night,

In the bar, at first sight.

Disentangling herself, she leaves

On quiet feet meant for thieves’,

And I reach for the morning bottle—

Mercifully, she left it full.