tear down

put your tongue on those metal rods
in my jaw
tastes like your white knight fantasy
of gunshots and firework ashes
more like factory work though
and labor strikes
IRA widows and trouble sleeping
less romanticized than expected
sorry
am I sorrow?
aged out of that hubris
drove out of the night sky
walked down spiral staircases
into the memory
of coming from not to life
vice versa
guess we gotta stop worrying about when we go
guess it kinda misses the point
guess I’m a bad shot
still go from the hip
still that young
still that special kind of response call
to 911 hang ups
to dispatch mismatches
take off your clothes
cried in his arms in my most raw
fantasy
in a dream before dawn
I was led to her bed
she wore face paint
turned her back
step outside again
recognize these streets from REM
never remember magic phrases
presented to resurrect the dead
not meant to leave
frozen food section resting place
told me you had magic powder
give me back the lie
always the same house
when I close my eyes

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