an anniversary of knives

no rhyme
no reason
just time’s passive treason
consumed and spit out
as the morning horizon screams
yellow funerals
begging me to join the ranks
of the wandering deaf

no breath
as tepid angels spit fire
from cornfed eyes
wailing against
a brilliant october sky

no rhythm
preaching dark magic
in the light of lust
satan slurs his speech
when he drinks with me

no tools, subtle fools
too many rules
i can almost smell the scent of
fresh coffee death
as we weep a wild winter
confused in the morning
confused in the evening
the future is known
and unknown all at once

no encryption
no mistake
late
fate delivered
a fresh basket case
wrapped in the wrong war
bullet holes decorate city hall
as an anarchic alarm clock
whispers r(E)volution in an empty field

the reflection of obsession hints at
obscene confession

no absolution
low resolution
empty institutions
as split personalities preach pacifism
in the gentle night

i’m waiting for the moon to kiss the sun
as fashionable patriots
conspire to kill us slowly
and the cops are crazier than the criminals

no curfew
i made a pact
with the ghost of a killer
and now
i am
a new man
remembering
an old body

forget the recipes of disaster
you once concocted
in the purple graveyard morning

one more beer
you have one more chance
to sip a blood tear
in the violent hemisphere
of
creative destruction

silver box and a black cat

no truth
no lies
no youth
no replies

no locks
just a
black box,
old rocks
and aftershocks

381-an-anniversary-of-knives

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