He Waits (for the rest of his sad fucking life)

 He Waits

Raving, roaring, fuming, igniting, biting, the smashed troll waits in

agony.

Staring blindly into the whiskey bottle.

Tearing at flesh; it smells like ammonia. He eats anyway.

Rotund and feeble, the defeated troll smells the farts of yesterday's

air.

Waiting in agony.

Shuddering, quaking, stumbling, falling, the blind sighted troll

seizes

His cock, but fails to squirt.

Terror is a way station on the trip to hell.

The troll has hair in his ears, nose, hair on his back, black, thick

hair.

hair of a gorilla

On his back, the Milky Way; a map of benign cancer, like the stars

all

within light-millimeters of themselves.

Alcohol throws him on the couch, sweating, swearing, crying,

laughing, waiting in agony.

Stringy, greasy hair, red-white greasy beard, deformed nose, and lips too

big

for the face, long back, short legs, wears a beard to enhance a

weak chin,

a troll resplendent in his ugliness. And that ridiculous smeel. (smile)

What woman could ever love him?

In agony, he waits.