the fix

lay down son
forget the knife
and bodies that fail
forget love that failed
and the tyranny of obligation

the lines are long
and time is short
so remember
beer, wet and alive
as the sun
kissed erotic treetops
that reached like defiant spears
toward heaven

forget the game,
and this garden of weeds
forget the assassin of morning
and dependent eyes
forget that death
is always trailing
slightly behind us

concrete souls wander home
with sadness out of sync
penetrated by the science of
linear language
as quiet creatures
create a nest of
faded creativity

so, remember
soft paws
of the cat
that never quits
remember shoguns with shotguns
stirring slowly burned stories
under a starry sky
as we
embrace this
stuttering symmetry
of metaphoric rent
because sometimes
the answer lies in
subtle destruction
of the self



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