Another recent poem:

Winter Chill

they say women are like wine
gradually aging toward beauty
but what of the ones that turn to vinegar?
who will sing their praises?
who will mend their stockings?
who will place pennies on their dead eyes?

she pants in calculated breaths
while a cancer of despair consumes her from inside
three failed marriages behind her
but still wanting, needing, aching
she hides in singles bars
and begs for easy embraces from men
desperate enough to overlook
her barbed wire cunt
their hearts pump freon
bitter with bile
but still she's so horny for them she can't walk straight

she approaches a young boy
so fucking cool with a
hundred and fifty dollar haircut
it's wasted on her
she only has X-ray eyes
seeing only
blood, seminal fluid, saliva, tears

they run home together
and soon, the sweat flies from their bodies
a desperate, parallel coupling
her legs akimbo
as he ejaculates into her
she clutches him like flotsam

for one small instant they can forget their woes
they can remember the joy of childhood
they can touch the meaning of their lives
they can feel the warmth of absolution
they can see the light of God
behind their eyelids as they leap
face first into the void

afterwards, she cried awkwardly in his arms
he's uncomfortable
but far too narcissistic to gnaw off his own arm
hoping instead that she'd fall asleep
so he could make good his escape

He chants to himself
sleep sleep
I have filled you with my warm seed
sleep sleep
let me comfort you with my heartbeat
sleep sleep
an emotional transfusion occurs
plasma from one shellshocked survivor to another
his youth and vigor to her wartorn heart

in the morning
she wakes alone
he didn't leave a phone number

--

I have no idea where this stuff comes from. I wrote this and the poem below, in less than ten minutes. Just flows out.