In the aftermath of your party I drink ash and butts again

Lipstick kisses me
from head jobbed glass rims,
sediment gleefully swallowed
salt smilingly licked.

Never mind the lemon faced bitches
that came before.
I would have shot them down
but their ego's did it for me
They left earlier
with fine featured stick boys
and forgot if they had a cunt.

As I step over coma corpses
and rifle thru handbags
in the grey light I realise...
This style can't be bit
only heaved urgent glorious,
hands and knees
over white porcelain world
screamed hot to a shithole.

Nothing else can be done.

So I take every drop
that wasn't given
and every cut lip
ash-tounge that comes,
knowing the sun is on my side.