A Quiet Night Down At The Pub

With a delicious cool look I shatter
a pint glass in your awkwardly shaped face.
Vodka laced with a hint of strong lager
flies everywhere as this manic laughter
tickling the back of my phlegm covered throat
spills onto the king of clubs and his men.
I pick up an ashtray; soaked now with booze,
and jam it in the corner of your eye,
what a wonderful expression that bleeds,
such a surprised look running down your cheek.
　
With a deranged twitch fashionably pinned
to my insanity's dark blue lapel
I move in closer and bite off your nose
before calmly returning to my chair.
Comfortable silence is abandoned
as screams from onlookers and shouts of hate
roam the decor with passionate fancy.
I light up a cigarette with red hands.
"I'm telling you once more, that was not snap!"