prom night

he's at the party.
tuxedos and ties everywhere.
pretty hair and pretty shoes.
sluts in diamonds,
arm-locked with their knights.
such intimacy!

and he's alone.
green-eyed, with a green tie,
walking the floor like
an actor.
props!lights!oh the audience!
"fuckin' idiots", he whispers,
slipping pass the crass mass
that's doing the salsa.

the night is young and
almost virginal
and if you strained your eyes
you could see the
glazed eyes of our dear
blonde brilliant beauties.
probably the bourbon.

there she is!
stunning in her blood red dress,
doing her dance of lust.
you can call it art,
maybe even a talent.
and he's seen her.

his eyes become a
shade of her dress.
oh look there's a tear
coming down his unshaven cheeks.
and no one will see him when
he cuts into her with that knife
he has.perfect perfect.
a picture perfect pool of poetic blood.
and her gasp escapes almost silent
next to the trumpets
that will play
all through the night.