The Music Drowns Out Their Screams

She rolls with the punches,
a tsunami of his rage,
split lipped, and
ill-equipped to make
herself small enough
to hide in his dark shadow.

He guzzles
bravado from a bottle
full throttle, flexing
wrath across
her path, looking to
make his mark on soft
flesh that once yielded
to a gentler touch.

They are caught in
the devil's dance
where loathing and fear
snap to attention with
the crack of each beer.

Reviews

[Frieda P]

Holy cats Anne, this is wicked bat shyte crazy good, albeit disturbing, it's beer or whatever poison gets them off so they are hardly human, awe inspiring read my friend!

[icelandicblue]

Thanks Frieda- good to see you back.