Not all are ugly,
but many turn heads
as they walk by,
their stained veins setting fire
to your placid eyes.

The drug has laced their blood
with sting and inferiority,
yet their lips ache
from the falseness of
their dazzling grins.

Hush,
the quiet of the nighttime
dancing into your sober ears,
your sober mouth,
your sober body.

The beautiful live drunk
off of the lingering eyes
and whispers,
their legs swaying coolly
to the outcries of society