Wasted..

The saliva-stained glass was about to make a bow,
But the audience burst into applause much before that.
The rhythm went berserk…
The flautist smiled wryly.


Two swigs and a full moon in your window…
The pages of the diary trying to keep up with the pace of the blotting ink
and the rush of blood...
The sand-clock measuring each nanosecond of wasted time
The half-wounded baby struggling out of her womb
Is scared to death by the sight of the laughing women
Women clad in pink blue and yellow.
Polishing their fangs luxuriously.

The war is only a few nights away
But she hardly cares
She wants flappy wings and a shoulder to cry on…
The nerves are wrought.
Silence is crawling out through the doors of a break-down
Only
Only if she wouldn’t care about
All the wrong-doers in the world...