demon eaters

on nights like these
someone gets stabbed after a party
while their blood flows
in the same gutter that someone pukes in
after having a drink or thirteen
and another man is ready to drive
to another party
too drunk to drive
or realize
that driving
is not a good way
to spend the next half hour

on nights like these
someone howls at the moon
from a rooftop
where the remains of the evening
smoulder like embers
of a love that is thrown carelessly
like a bottle that breaks on the cobblestones in the street
someone yells at the revellers
to let them sleep
and they yell back to relax
tomorrow is Sunday after all
or is it today
no one cares and no one knows

on nights like these
time blurs as hand of clock race
towards daylight
and the music is not loud enough
hearts are not broken in shards enough
there is still hope that someone can glue that fucking piece of shit together again
for three hundred and sixty seventh time

on nights like this
sin is in and we
dream of clinging to each other
glued by sweat, spit and semen
eat each other's demons
from without and within

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You are what you eat.