It's a Game, Really.

Oh the precipice,

You phantomous thing.

The devilish demon

between in & sanity

I dangle a foot

every once in a while

over each black edge of you,

‘in Jezebel style.

Tell me, why do I flirt?

with these monsters below?

The lesser evil of which

I’ve yet to know.

Traipsing the evening

décolletage on display.

Coy bait for the beast,

That sleeps the sun away,

then prowls the night in pursuit

of a 19 year old tease,

a busty brunette,

the ideal vampire’s feast.

Bitten and bruised

I fumble back to my perch

and dip my right foot

in the water at church.

As a house guest of the Lord

I face different foes,

first the guilt of hypocrisy

then self-punishing blows.

Once my penance is paid,

I enjoy a brief respite, then panic ensues

as I begin to suffocate.

So I stagger back to my perch

Gasp gasp gulp gulp ahhh.

And the world turns about.

boohoo hurray tah tah

Papers delivered, milk runs out.

Full house re-runs play,

Teapots remain short and stout.

Nails are chewed,

guns are shot,

McDonald’s gets sued

For serving coffee too hot.

The who’s whats and wheres persist

and I endure,

holding my breath atop my best friend,

and only known cure.

The faithful precipice

between now tomorrow and then.

Although as small as a pinpoint,

my golden beacon.