At night, The fresh sweat
that rolls down succulent *******,
the *****, bourbon, and wine
that pours down guilty throats,
and good tobacco smoke
that hovers below the lights,
all of it carries the scent
of animal passions
released into the wild.

In the morning, those same smells
grow old, stale, out of favor.
Betrayal replaces desire
as ***** replaces the splendor of *****.
The reality of regret
that stares at us through bloodshot eyes
forever replaces another slice
of innocence.