Poetry by JC Snyder

I drain your thoughts away,
and then there are the glances and that subtle
flutter when you approach.

We crawl the night thirsty.

Desire between the damned is
my need to hurt you,
bite scratch claw you bloody.
And your need to lash out
those few nihilistic times we speak.

We know nothing of the other beyond these walls.

But then
in the haze of smoke that hangs down from the ceiling
like electrical wires
and loose panels under construction,
in the only light of green beer bottles and neon signs,
and empty sticky shot cups,
and those not amused by life anymore,
and the ragged dying breath of slow drunken dances,
and good girls sliding down poles,
and bad girls hiding in the bathroom,
and big muscled men and shaved heads singing Godsmack,
in the last hour,

When our eyes have adjusted,
you kiss me goodbye.

Panic before the world turns bright.
The frantic cramping fear that we have wasted it all.

We are thirsty gluttons for punishment.