Choosing sides is a game for original sinners and I know I wasn’t given a slice of that apple, so I lost faith in your waistline a long time ago and now I get your parables: write last sentences on morgue walls like tablet laws, I still will remember the gut aches of god giving us all we could handle. I handled it like a noose in New Jersey. I swallowed you like a warm beer in Septembers. I gave myself a memo that said, “My stomach hold only salt water now that I can die any day, forget what it was like to be splendor, everything is a dandelion dried wish.” I want to stop calling her your name every night.



Oh, I love you so, like the body aches and shakes of methadone in the morning. I awoke with a dread once, it was of axe murders and papercuts, and nestled into my hipbone so soothingly that this poem never got wrote, I went back to sleep. I still manage to dream but if you don’t wake you can’t remember them. I kiss infant eyelids and chant the sweats out when you go. She says I should be feeling but absence makes the heart abscess so string me close ’til you’re broke. I love like fast food parking lots most nights, on yesterday’s horizon, but today knew I wanted you the right way so I pursed these lips on punctuation, tender like a mother, bold like an exaltation, dark like our savior complex demons, drained like Chernobyl shores, it’s an acrid attack on the past/participles you drove out. Dim the earth’s lights low, turn the meter off, we sing so slow of our damned falls.