The Frustration of Amusement

with jezebel shrapnel speckleing her cheeckbones,
she wakes up, like every other morning
after every other night like this
reaching it's curtains sans love, sans kiss
some alcohol, some swirling dance
some music screamed inside her ear
some mind to break to see them, clutched
one last yell 'till cease to feel
now what is real?