There was a wave of melancholy
lingering in the air, dirt-stained
diction creeping into shadowy
depictions across the salt-covered
floor, my teary eyes staring at
your fallen frame, drowned angles
diverging into drunken domains,
your feeble hands fumbling
with the spoon as you attempted
to swallow the chunky strips
of chicken and creamy mashed
potatoes.  Your rusted lips browning
and dragging, drifting into rotten
rivers.  It was hard to see you
in this condition.  My thoughts
were overloaded, exploding,
wanting to bring back the days
when you were a wild man
grooving in the limelight,
stepping on the scenic floors
in your dance shoes and dressy
slacks, jamming to the beat.
Your body pressed up against
a couple of attractive ladies,
breathing in the sultry vibes
within their souls, taking them
into the street lanes of ecstasy,
waxing their skin in sexalicious
syllables, then taking them home,
******* them like there was no
tomorrow, your oil-slick skin
covered in sweaty *** – ripped
condoms, pearly-stained lingerie,
blue jeans, white blouse, and red pumps.
Now as I gaze at your crippled body
sifting into sleepy stages, shifting
suspense, brainwashed bridges
and beginnings, I knew your existence
was fading away into the backdrop
of broken skies, your country time soul
no longer alive, cold, flooded, and darkened gray.