Monday, June 01, 2015

the paint stripped words
flicker faint melancholia
and childhood burns

while us bottom feeders
and shit kickers
without the dumb
repetition of teevee
celebrity chefs
wait languid drunk
and unamused
for a bathroom makeover
that will never come

we talk sex, revolt and anxiety
fists open and release
forming nose bleeds and
chipped teeth

rituals of love

driving home i watch
the bored placid faces
of cattle in their cars
and think of my friend,
his shaking hands
wry smile benders and
broken teenage dreams

there is no sadness
and we may yet live
to take this care
to our graves


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