To those Not Drunk.

Ramblers Ramble:
I fuck to fuck, drink to drink, piss the night away with a black cat pussy stretching to and fro. I misunderstand her, she says to go, but I think to stay; sweaty and fetid breath is my luxury. She runs and I grab, pull her close, and say: "Baby, you're nothing but my whore, nothing but a cheap dance in the quicksilver glow of a silver coin.
She is crying now, outside, I shut the door. Fall onto the bed, smoke a cigarette; cheap, cheap, poorly made with poverty in mind.
2.50:
I work security you see, watch the droning drone move on by, under half lidded eyes, My stupor is warmth of ignorance, dances of dancers parading about in sheep's skin; greasy fat peeking through zipper teeth. Cheap work for the undesirable, old and subnormal.
Judas.
"My little brother stole my mom's car." I tell my friend, lets call him Sam.
"Yaeah?" Sam says.
"Sure, full tank, fucker wore it down to half, says he went to see his little friend" I light another cigarette in a stream of chain smoking.
"What for?" Sam bum's a cigarette off me, I almost punch him in the face, but I hold still.
I'm a coward.
"Sex, its his girlfriend."
"Think he reamed her?" Sam asked
"Like I know, probably, hopefully, or all that shit would have been for nothing."
"Crack the bumper real good too, hit a pole he said."
"Probably another car" Sam says what I'm thinking.
Love:
"How's the sex going Spud?" Sam asks as he butts his smoke, his fingers dancing their way to my half gone pack.
"It's gone, though not sure if it was ever there to begin with."
"No classy pussy coming your way. I'm shocked!"
"One maybe, but she is too far, another mans meat sock."
"Tell her you want to play stop and go anal, Spud, that should light some of her bulbs." Sam grins and pilfers another from the dying pack.
"Fuck off," I look for the drink that will come later.