Carnage

Now commence the acts of pleasure with which I christen this year.

A fresh red apple. It’s crisp and the skin bites between my teeth.

I chew and swallow, tasting the bright apple and the dark blood.

A glass tumbler with a smoky whisky, stirring the embers

In my stomach.

I’ll sing at the piano, if you’ll let me. Just this once.

Sing songs of murderous blues and amorous refrains.

Sing welcome, to this icy new year, snow trailing behind my feet.

Everything is new again. A first drink. A first kiss. A first bite.

A first fight.

A first fuck. Couples disappear discreetly from parties everywhere.

They leave the rest of the animals to prey in feverish peace.

The truth is--

This shit gets old.

And I get drunk,

And lie back on my pillows.