Night Life Streets Poem by raymond letsitsa

Choked suddenly
by the awkward breeze
of drunk odor
in this place
Neglected by a handsome
stream of salivary gases
that comes from their
Hungover faces,
Their women are dancing
and their movements are sexual
This is hell on earth,
not reserved for the saintly and spiritual
A bottle in their
hands
makes them
feel like kings and queens
Headed towards the narrow gate with a chemical used to
sedate human beings
Addictive like the drugs they give their women to make them horny
I'm on the tenth row of this madness,
looking as they pass by
forlonly
A man kisses a bottle's lip,
'coz all these sexy women make him feel lonely
Affection and a loss of appetite is the product they brought for me
The music that bangs in their heads makes them proper Jezebels
It promises
this weak-kneed
nigga to think
of wedding bells.

Skeletons rot daily
in her closet,
and she runs from them to hide in her shell
Of promiscuity, doubt and self-denial
The feeling is mutual with most men in her room,
but this one here is viral
In the omnipotence of things, she envisions gay gods fighting
for a man in her skirt
Pagan incest grabs her soul and runs it like pigs through the dirt
A lady so out of balance, she clings to a stripping pole to feel complete
Ancient goddesses ran a mile through her mind, committing adultery
with defeat
Purchased her spirit
in the illumination to shine her weary light
All wickedness takes place but in the middle
of the night.