numb

The drunk and the sane
Have crossed paths once again
One cannot say there is sanity left
Now that they’ve left the glasses, empty

A soft hand slides
Perhaps too far
And there will be a price to pay
When tomorrow takes notice

Of today’s mistakes
There will be the smell
Of sweat and booze
And sore, syrupy lips

There is one quiet man
On another table, who sadly says:
I’m sorry, but there was never a way
To welcome any of you into my arms

Party’s over too soon
For those who never celebrate
The celibate cries of a terrible virginity
Still echo between the beats