where only the whites of
the eyes
opened and closed as i
tried
to believe in god,
watching
your hands tremble
hoping the walls could
walk away
if memory was something
you could plaster on them
and write pain in italics
to
describe how silver the
silver was
if at first i heard my
heart beating
and yet heard nothing at
all
between passing hours and
streetlights
that flicker then fade
if bullets were malleable
and
sunk in the flesh while i
laughed
at your sweat drenched
face
staining the worn denim
that
disguised you as human
on the day it was seventy
five and sunny
and people forgot how to
cry
if fate wasn’t a shed
stuffed with
victims of self depravation
who know
nothing of souls like mine
that yearn
to watch the leaves change
color
and lick salt off my
cheeks, sunken
from anguish at the image
i see
in the mirror, of a ghost
i always was yet never
discovered
if stars could bear
witness to
the aging anguish of the
world
that made me a statistic of
the faces on our evening news
do you know where your kids are right now?
whose darling smiles exist
only in pictures
you send out to people who
pretend they care
and say they will do their
best to find
those silky soiled locks
whose
dusty distant laughter was
only a sound
heard through the trees,
yet still
if i never asked for it,
why then, could i tell you
that
living tastes like lying
under a naked bulb
begging to die?
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