A Poem by Noel Negele

Loss of Love

At dawn
With loss of love
Coming down from cocaine
On a stool
With a beer and a shot of vodka
Trying to bring some giggle
In the rotting serotonin levels
Of my brain;
Looking at the bored dancer
Wrap her thighs around that pole
As crude hands hold money like
Proud flags of debauchery

If there is a time for a heart attack
It is now, to fall off the stool suddenly
On my way down of the mountain
Of despair, the clenching finally final
And not a single one
In this lousy cavern of vice
To notice or care enough
To call somebody

The streets are a desert now
The people are scorpions
Their love is a quicksand

Possibly
While all the regrets will
Echo loudly in the chamber
Of our souls
We will all ride
The burning carriage of death
Together
Some day
And hopefully
It will be all our enemies
Dragging our content asses
From one darkness
To a far better one.