what if this was the last night on earth
what if we pretend
that everything was alright
could we charm this bluebird fantasy?

remember when beer and cigarettes
were all we had
remember when tie-dye shapes created
a nest of immortality
and the only sounds that mattered
were birds singing at sunrise

some nights are cold
colder than february memories
anxious against winter gods
i ration love
like i ration heat
and
an obsolete heartbeat
swells in this dusty season
indiscreet

this private shrine no longer speaks to me
so i hold low candles high
in hopes that written wounds will dry

i hate repeating words
and some words
kill quicker
than the best soldiers
my words are sharp fruit
spilling seeds across the poetry of your skin

404: this one’s an error
mapped to steal a six gun sky

i’m tired of broken noise
all this dead language flows from
a pendulum rhythm of unequal measure
as empty characters anoint slow minds
like ancient stars
waiting patiently for a final release