After the After-Party

After all the beautiful woman have
fucked your soul
until there is nothing left.

After everywhere you go
all you see are the damned
-the expressionless eyes
hanging lifelessly over vacant grins
-the halfwit producers of the mounds
of consumer waste
piling up at the edges of the earth
for nothing.

After everything you touch
bleeds dry and shatters
leaving you to ruminate
as the days pass
like bottle after bottle
and cigarette after cigarette.

After the perpetual storm
raging inside of you
biting at the back of your mind
with the total abandonment
of a new lover
finally diminishes
into empty space.

After the last of the world’s natural resources
have been squandered for cash.

After the last tree standing has
unceremoniously fallen.

After the overwhelming media machine
has simply swiped sanity from all lands.

After the last virtuous girl
spreads her legs gladly
for any one of the countless, misguided devils
that run our planet.

After the after-party.

After all the wine has been drank.
After all the pills that allow the dead to dream
have been consumed.
After the last junkie has fallen asleep forever
and you are left willing to
shake the heavens
for some angel dust.

After everything
that has come to pass
passes…

Yes,
I will still be here
with this damn pen
trying to pound out a page.

Rest assured.

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