Revenge and Vino Blanco

He tastes the emotion like a fine wine,
testing the flavors on his tentative palette.

sipping from the drunken love
spilled
drenched
soaked... with
crying
bleeding
feeling...

The sweet, surrendering taste of his kiss and knowing he'll never
forget,
falling in love in one exclusive months' time.
falling surrender,
knees fail,
body, comfortably numb.
goosebumps like an infection,
no lustful erection...
true love sabotaged for childish fling.

The salty taste of  slow, tiny,
dollop waterfalls, falling for the tender to touch detachment
anti-social anxiety... having to steal petty rewards for the
addiction to be supplied specifically.

The sour taste of spewed regurgitation when the
snow-caine made him gag on his previous meal,
the relish of his own blood, spilled and
cut. from inside to outside.
never to show weakness or impure thoughts but to
parallel, the pain from within to the scars bared on the surface.

And to the back of it all, the taste of bitter-sweet revenge,
grasping hands, strapped through his mangy, scruffy hair,
pull harder so
each strand rips from its roots,
each memory scraped out of his rotted brain...
in bed with his    [best]    friend
scratch freshly manicured nails down his freshly shaved body.
strum the guitar, beat the drum, a symphony of scandalous desecration,
take a crowbar to his car by

cheating the cheater.
taste your own damn medicine for once.
worship your new goddess, Nemesis.

Feel the burn as the alcohol sets in.