Those eyes were a perfect picture of gala
Where it mirrored the women dancing,
The shouts contained
euphoric dose of champagnes-
A perfect choice of tequila,
And bloody colored cherries were
but an adornment for the night.

What makes it grand
are the sniffing hungry bulls
that scoff around every bitch –
smells like an excited little pussy.

His eyes wore the brightest gleam
Of a .45 caliber pistol,
Ready to puff anytime-

How I love to glide my hands-
While I let his devious fraudulent eyes
Witness the wine gradually
Dripping from my golden chalice-

Oh, how I love to call it a night.

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1 endeavored to criticize:

gkae said...

"euphoric dose of champagnes-
A perfect choice of tequila"
so, there is a party with different sorts of drinks?

45 caliber pistol--> 0.45 caliber pistol

as i see it, there is a man in a party and he's looking at women? am i right? wrong? haha. i'm sorry i'm bad at interpreting poems...