thinking, swinging, and missing.
Friday, September 14, 2007
the pleasantries
weren't put aside
as much
as
they were
tossed;
abandoned.

and the open hands
became bricks

because the failure
had become
too much

and the honesty
was easily
pushed around,
quick to load
into
that gun

we had eluded
regret
for the time being--

it was outside
flirting
with a sunset,
counting
birds
on a wire.

kiss from a judas
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
something in the air
was wrong.

shifting,
warm,
fried and floral.

i drove
at dawn
listening to concerning eye

remembered how you laughed
like you've never been
scared
before.

it was never the same
after the accident...
you professed
love
for a god
you didn't even acknowledge
the week before

a blanket,
a ruse.

forced the harvest hand;
and the lost
always
find a way
to become a loss

you weren't one for goodbyes
just some really good stories left behind
some books you called friends
some paintings you called children

words.
words.
words.
words never saved a fucking thing
not anyone,
not mine, yours
or theirs.

it was another day
just a happy song
broken into sad parts
as i drove
into
the dusk.



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Brimstone Manner, Apartment No. 5
oh, the hills scatter into the darkness
player piano
the kissinger carcass
a killer's prayer
four forty in thirteen
burned
all that you've paid for
three reasons to walk home



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