Single One

Fickle the intrigues of single men leeching to she bodies for that sugary life support,

Draining the effects of those glass touches to which shatter on contact,

Four snipes of ungodly accurate dialogue from his unwanted guests would snatch his bloated ego from its hallowed throne,

The wandering species allergic to the purported arrests of undeniable commitment-

Flock among themselves to combat the uninvited hopeful,

Damn any woman willing to build an empire with only the sighs of my aspirations under the mumbles of my tongue; be damned myself.

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16 Confections

Teeny confections,
Enough for 16 people,
All placed on glass dishware atop the banquet table,
6 pitchers of acidic drink to be served after the uncomfortable pleasantries are exchanged,
The un-pleasantries,
Small “How are yous?” and empty topics right before we sit to glut,
Starring lustily at the ham the chefs have already cut,
We bow our heads in grace as the hall door’s shut,
We ask for nourishment from poisonous fruit,
We ask for quench from the Devil’s grail,
We thank God for the opportunity to abuse,
What he has given us in good grace,
We are Christian, and this is faith.

Chumping and crunching and sipping and clanks,
Fronting and lunching and fibbing and drank,
Watch our ethics crash to the ground,
Let our spirits lift along with the sound,
Screaming and yelling and dancing and fits,
Seemingly desperate old men romancing the witch-
es of our Christian faith,
The holy, the righteous, the grandeur the great,
The folly, the night mess, the banter, the hate,
Histrionics and drama alike…
We praise our God with transgression tonight.