Another in a series of elusive happy endings

Tonight's the night I kill my angel
In a cold blooded crime of passion.
First, I melted his wings on a bare light bulb
In room thirteen of the Minute Man Motel.
Dropped him in a plastic cup topped off
By a pocket bible with a cigarette burned
Cover and a silverfish bookmarking John 3:16.
Placed him on the night table, next to a picture
Of the women and children I left behind,
So he can watch me sin before he dies.

My hundred dollar an hour whore knocks
Three times at the door before I let her in.
She's got green teeth and a black leather
Satchel filled with tools of the darkest trade.
She fills her mouth with chewing gum,
Bitching and moaning as I tell her I won't
Be needing her penance of pain after all
As any empathetic survivors hiding out
In my soul have been scarred beyond
Recognition by that last swig of rotgut rye.

I slap a Benjamin down on the television,
Pull down my jeans and say, “Calm down,
Woman, I still need an hour of good fucking.”
She takes the bill, puts it to the light while wiping
Canary dreadlocks from her eyes before stripping.
Her tits were a lot smaller than the grainy pic
On the phone like some silicone had leaked out
Over the years along with muscle tone and appeal.

She blew a spearmint bubble the size of a softball,
Popping it and getting it all over her drawn face.
She started oozing green and cackling like the Wicked
Witch of the West and I'm thinking any minute
Flying monkeys are gonna bust through the window.

Whatever wood I harbored in my loins splintered
As her tongue zigzagged from my belly to my balls
Like a drunk sailor, ship bound from shore leave.
Her head, all yellow and green, looked like venereal
Disease on my crotch and I felt bile creep up my throat.
I finally lost it when the power of the camouflage green
Got the best of her and she's barking orders looking like
Fidel Castro in '59, “Eat this, suck that, lick this, fuck that.”

I'm getting pissed and now I hear laughing but it's not her.
The angel's splitting a gut in his Dixie cell and I blow.
I chase the whore out of the room and light a match,
Taking the angel out of the cup by the nape of his neck.
I stick the hot stick up his bony white ass. Sodomy by fire.
I carry him to the bathroom to drown him in the toilet
Along with all the other wet dreams I've had and lost
In this fucked up facsimile of life and I flush him down
To the sewers of Hades where God's plumbers don't go.

I check my wallet for what's left of the winning numbers
From last night's drawing and find a Grant and two fins.
I throw on my clothes and go out into the neon lit night
Looking for somebody to fuck me for fifty and a case of PBR.