Poem/prose How About It?

So how about it then?
He can see her wrapped in his arms
Already hidden from salvation but
Still deluded in the half life of his smile.
She should never embrace this tainted folly
Yet here she comes, drawn through the revelry
To descend,
All too oblivious to the carnage of  '97
And the rubble of his dreams,
Bought at the cost of his dignity.
For him life has inverted,
What little there was left of his grace
Corrupted all the more the further he flees from ruin.
How could she know all that remains
Is that hypnotic, psychotic smile
Inviting another martyr to the bottom of his glass?
So how about it, then?