It Very Nearly Went Past Vomit

A pleasurable night out

and Death,

all its swords drawn;

and Death,

on its hind legs;

and Death,

swimming in poker and

cigarette stumps, grabbing at

poor thrashing ankles who are in turn

clinging to the toilet seats with

white, aching knuckles, with

the pouring from between

those brown teeth.

the splat-accidents on your clothes are

larger now than

you want to be seen, and

you know you reek, so

you just cower and smell your smells.

it is your stall now.

your smells relax into your stall,

regardless of what

the black-suit round man

could bellow,

could say twice to you and then

regardless of how much

his cigarette stump hurts,

burning into your regular bare head as

he walks away to big Money and

tits smooshed, to

lightning women bent over

green felt, to voltage in a grey box.

everyone’s got their calling,

you think, nearly laughing,

but that regular bare head hurts now

as it is once again

accepting life

in all its lowercase.

Death sheaths

his one hundred-edged blade,

for now.

everyone’s got their calling.

Reviews

[Frieda P]

Clever read, I can't tell if this is a good night, or a bad night though, it made me chuckle.

accepting life
in all its lowercase

Great line, enjoyed.