“Perfect,” Karmen replied to herself as if she never laid eyes on such a cowardly man.

But what else was she to feel while the Ethanol streamed down towards her liver as the dusk struck the perfect night. The bench sat perfectly empty with beat up metal and delicate yet fearful drops of God created sorrow. Perfect hazel eyes frantically reached across nameless disasters. Searching to find herself, a young girl. What makes a young girl? Stripped innocence gazes at the stars dead along the disappeared past childhood.

"Bees don't cling to their hives anymore, why? Why aren't the bees scared of losing their survival? Should I not care about dying? I don't. I never will. The strength of infatuation was too strong for me, too strong for me to break away from. He killed me perfectly. Why am I shivering? I feel his perfect arms. I feel his touch, but he is gone. Long gone. The bowling ball missed the pins, it turned the wrong direction and now he's gone. His assuring hands ripped away from my reminisce as the hurricane of my tears wallows from the fear of never being able to be held again," she slurs to herself thinking maybe someone will listen to what she has to say. But no one does, no one’s there.

Sip. Sipping. She poured the empty flask down her throat holding back the burning sensations of love. Love doesn't exist. It's the thought of love that rushes in between her sight. Her blurred sight, that is never quite truthful. Every anger was perfectly misplaced and hazel eyes knew waking up had become overrated. Broken eggshells consistently crack and the ice was now too thin to walk upon. Lust. What was the feeling of peace?

“Perfect,” Karmen repeats the flowing expression over and over hoping it means something more.

Drawn between the next bottle and last bottle shattered, Karmen rests somewhat patiently for her uneasiness to pass. February was coming to its clutches and composure was in the wind.

“My mother, I am not her. I can’t be. I won’t be. Pathetic, perfect pathetic pity. I pity the part of myself that carries her such demeaning qualities. The apple dropped from the aged tree and leaped, but it fell back, fell back with enmity and defeat,” contemplating reasoning to her calamities, Karmen won’t take the blame for herself.

It has now been two years since her mother had passed. Two years since she drank herself to death. A perfect death for an alcoholic. A perfect moment for Karmen to be selfish and make the death about herself. Her mother always needed a miserable man to perfect her endless time. Karmen has recently felt the same need for perfection. It fades. Fades perfectly out of conscious.  

“One more is forever one more, and two more is too many. When is enough, enough? Does being satisfied actually even exist?” the questions drained like a pipeless sink and Karmen was left to sympathize her own decisions.

The suffocating night seemed ceaseless. Where was the closure? Where was the desire to move on? Where was the perfectly naive girl that expected more in happiness? Everything was transformed in that instance. Her witty smile and her hazel eyes, they turned to dust. Dust that held her sense of relevance.  It was all perfectly unsound and no one was there to recognize such defeat. Karmen took her final sip as her veins filled up with cheap fulfilling ***** and she was gone. Long gone. Gone with the bowling ball that steered the wrong direction. She wasn’t going to let the miserable men control her existence, she wasn’t going to be her mother. But oh how the tables have turned and it seems as if the irony killed Karmen herself. With her final perfect sip, she blinked her hazel eyes one last time.

“Cold, cold is the source of all pain and loyalty. It reaches its peak and then it dies along with the soul,” Karmen’s voice whispered as it faded out with her blurred eyesight.

She was her mother. Karmen was the perfect image of her mother. Karmen lived the perfect death of an alcoholic and held the perfect selfishness of one too many sips. She lived the resentment she carried and tore at the seams. Birds only chirp as loud as their highest pitch, and Karmen had simply dealt the only deck of cards she knew how to. The perfect ace that finalized the straight flush of her own savaged childhood.

Growing up as a guy I have something to admit
Its that theres so many girls that i'll never forget
So i'll jump right in and go right from the start
and tell you about all these girls that have affected my heart
So lets start with the As there is two that first come to mind
and thats Ambrea and Ashley, their each one of a kind
Now those are my sisters so their first to be said
but lets continue on to who else pops in my head
lets see...there's 2 Ashley As, but only one Ashley G
can't forget Amanda K, or all 7 Amys
There are so many As that we'd have to stay way long
let me wrap it up quick with the cutest one "akon"
You should see all these B's their so pretty it scares me
theres Beth and theres B thou, theres Bee and  B. Barry
In the C's we have Crepeele with her pretty long blonde hur
and then we have Cameo, thats right, Mama Burr
On to the Ds they would never be meana
theres danielle carey, and then there is dreena
though im sure there are Es-Hs to do
i'm skipping to Js starting with J. Gubbes
Janelle, Jolene, or Jocelyn B.
Jordan, and Jen, and Jill L. you see
Jamie, and jasmine, or J. Allen
Jaylene, and Jessica, and then jen again
Oh God now the Ks, not sure where to begin...
I'll start with the departed R.I.P. Kristin
On to the girls that are more than alive,
Lets take, Keilyn, Kayla, and Karmen on a test drive
Three other K's must get named out for sure
And that's Kaley, Kansas, and Kristjana Schure
Two Girls in the Ls that are way way to awesome
And thats Lauren Borsheim, and of course, Laura Klassen
On to the Ms there is no time to spare
Just one, Maryke, and she cuts my hair
...I'm just kidding MOM you know your up there!
We do have an N there's nothing to fear
Her name is Niki, she lives in Red Deer
No Os, or Ps, or Qs to discuss
we'll move on to R's cause this next ones a must
Rachael K the Australian Wonder
Rebecca's art is so good she draws lightning and thunder
Theres a couple of shellys, and Sam 1 and 2
Tara looks like a model, and Tia does too
Don't know any Us, the Vs go in order
Vanessa M, V. Young, and VJ the reporter
If your name wasn't mentioned no need to be sour
this poem was rushed, took me less than an hour

and at the end of this session, i'm going to gorge on homemade banana cake, and a glass of milk; hmm, so that's that.

hannah hallysem, chloe vevrier, rosalia verne, dakota skye, nadine jansen, milena d., katrina jade, alison tyler, sasha foxxx, noelle easton, shay fox, kourtney kane, aletta ocean, lexi belle, aria giovanni, maritza mendez, silvia loret, laura lion, ashley graham, latex lucy, alexis texas,  dana dearmond, abella danger, karmen karma, jezebelle bond, keisha grey, karmen grey, jelena jensen, carmen croft, aneta buena, ines cudna, ewa sonnet, emma green, louisa marie, ivy nedkova, karolina pliskova, emma green, louisa marie, ivy nedkova, rooney mara, claire forlani, kelley scarlett, malina may, amirah adara, phoenix marie, foxy di., kenya lust, kiera winters, christy mack, paige delight, faith nelson, darya klishina, sand morris, alysha newman, silvia saint, adele stephens, deven davis, ewa wyrwal, tanya song, synn wagner, christina lucci, hunter leigh, lynda leigh, gemma atkinson, mulani rivera, sarah harding...
        
   all those "expectations" mingling with a *babuska...
gotta have a babuska after a list like that...
      looks nice, doesn't it?
         see how honest other people can become...
      that's as honest as you're going to get:
i'm hardly an out-of-the-closet gay / intellectual...
and this is hardly the most desireds genetical "encyclopedia"
worth reciting...
      but at least there's no closet,
and certainly no skeleton in it...
  to be honest, i'd love to see a compendium of
a woman's favourite *****,
   oh sure, i can switch off...
    i just start thinking about cow *******
and milk sacks; not that hard;
  ugh... furr... itchy... stroking a cow is like
scratching your skin after the barbers...
milking a cow: ah... another subject
of investigation...
                        why do men not bother being
breast-fed, to out-compete the babe?
seems a shame to leave a vacuum for
capitalism to not investigate, don't you think?

I sit and wait on the call.
Problem solving as a summons
lit high and bright in
dark nighttime skies.
I wait for the call.
For the pull in my blood
screaming toward labor
toward love or toward war.
I am consumed in patient hold.
Call me to action!
Drive me, like a weary stead
slathered in foam from effort,
into your biggest ******* mess!
Unleash me, like a hungry Karmen
starving and deep, on your worst foes.
I long for purpose.
I beg for need.
I don't know how to apologise.
I only know how to plead.
I don't know how to compromise.
I only know how to take wing.
I await your call.
But the phone sits still.
It just doesn't ring.