Determination rubs his weary face
and tucks himself into a spartan bed.
He marks another day devoid of grace,
whose victory is just that he’s not dead.
He sinks into his mired dreams of Joy
while dragging all her memories behind,
a convocation summoned to employ
their gravity upon his weary mind.
While Joy, that bitch sublime, is still awake
and dancing like a fool before some stage;
she grinds and screams, a tease, a whore, a fake,
while acting like she’s only half her age.
Tonight some stupid boy will hike her skirt,
determined to control the faithless flirt.