Sad eyes reflect crooked mirrors and only.
The parrots mock you by being quiet,
And nothing can drive one to be this lonely
Only the silence when you can’t deny it.
The heartbeat subsides to hear the clocks’ crow, --
It’s only eleven, but the ball is long over
And Cinderella is turned into a beast to show
That the night doesn’t want to see you sober.
On nights like this, it no longer matters
Whether the legs can find the way to the bedroom.
The body hits concrete, seeking a mattress,
And helplessly slides six feet under in tantrum.