in the headlights
During the frenzied brilliance of intoxication
we often say things that
in the sober light of the morn
are stupid and obtuse
How often that faux brilliance causes hurt.
When slashing across another's soul
the frenzy appears as a cheap food coloring trick
even though the wounds course deep
What of the outcome
how thoughtful one might be
after the Spirit has been dashed
when compassion and kindness were dealt near fatal blows
during the drunken surge the eve before.
Labels: angst, hurtfulness, loss, poetry