Red Bloodied Romance
An extra shot of whiskey,
To keep my hands steady,
A potent dosage of psycho,
To kill everyone in this fermented grotto,
A torrent of tears,
To drown my homicidal regrets and masochistic fears.
Sadistically driven by revenge claimed so long ago,
Sewing makeshift stitches over my gaping emotional wounds,
Accumulated from years of abuse that created our antihero,
Performing nightly spectacles of barbarity to receive my dues,
I am a woman consumed by vendettas yet hollow to the core,
Trapped within empty bottles and dirty syringes,
Desperately searching for any hope to restore,
A fragmented psyche from becoming completely unhinged.
Another round of glaring lights,
To soothe the intoxicated patrons demanding a fight,
Another bottle downed,
To loosen the limbs and lose track of the ground,
Another match between the violently stupid and the hopelessly depraved,
To find out which ones which after I've vehemently raved,
At my booze for not buzzing,
At my chems for not lifting,
At myself for not quitting,
At my life for not ending.
How many more nights can I take of this,
One more shot and I'm bound to burst,
One more chem and I taste death's kiss,
Since leaving the womb my life's been cursed,
I should end it all with one good shot,
Scream a final "screw you" to the world through my double-barrel microphone,
Not like anyone's gonna listen whether they be across the Commonwealth or within earshot,
So it's either throw the match and die with the last laugh,
Or crawl into a corner and let my splattered brain write my final epitaph.
A sudden muzzle flash,
With the sound of cracking whips and roaring thunder,
The fragrant aroma entices my nostrils with the perfume of rabid gunpowder and easy cash,
A fight to the death interrupted by a hail of gunfire? Yea, sounds like my usual drunken stupor,
Maybe it's my guardian angel coming to save me,
Well she's got red hair and a nice ass so call me a believer,
Looks like you won't be taking me out tonight Reaper you old thief,
I've got a prior engagement with my shotgun,
And a date with destiny.
Copyright © Michael Zavaletta | Year Posted 2015
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