4/2/18 8:13PM
violent screens, and the hollow throes, glistening these dark days in silence
the music is all rotting, flailing in its somber speed
i speed because i knock off time from
commutes of sentence
but there is never enough roadwork
to listen to enough sad music
pinning my heart, ripped
like my leather jacket,
my nearest and dearest
i see it torn and only
some of it grows
too much light, chalice mirage
flinging away thoughts like kerosene rags
and still the pile burns brighter
now i am haunted by bath water ghosts
bonfires on the horizon for this first nation,
the tired amazement i have makes me hope for seneca
i really hope that seneca capitalist
can build his off ramp
and the drunks in edmonton
stuck in the 90s
still spout wisdom:
well, if you had gotten your shit together Billy, we could’ve taken the bus!