Sinking low her vile eyes glaze careless lands,
Of grief sun and Liquor moon.
Scratching spittle sparkles upon her lips;
I find romantic insanities enthralled in her stare,
And misanthropic claws within her heart;
Corrosive leg and scorned breast depart.
One spring morn she danced among widowed statues,
Singing: " One day I shall be like them........ Silent and obsolete! "
Madness her peaceful embrace,
Sadness her jewel home:
Consoling churches for her soul alone.
One winter eve she drank hard loves of rage,
Screaming at the deceiver in the mirror.
Shaking child rolling inside disastrous tides,
I croon the poem of serenity into her ear;
Ignorant of my song she mimes the dead,
Releasing sick withdrawals into my head.
by Mike Baglione (c)1988