Finally

Finally

He keeps his regrets trapped in an old tin cigarette case

Which lies under a pile of worn-out socks in a dresser drawer

That sticks.

He coughs up blood and guts and spits smutty curses at Polaroids

He took of sluts who posed stoned sucking bottles of Wild Irish Rose

And pricks.

His breath reeks of lies and contempt and unkempt morals

Which wheeze over blackened teeth and dribble down his chin

Into a rat’s nest beard where his tongue reaches down

And licks the stains left by never-healing wounds.

 He curses his memories,

Rehearses his future and butchers his past

Then, for lasting effect: pulls the trigger.