i have written a tragedy down below where the pretty boys
come to die. although, i’m spitting phrases of nothing to save
myself the embarr-ssment of apology. the caption
read, “danger” silly boy, “you’ve got to know when to stop.”
it’s just life lessons disguised as defeat. dear god, it’s
happened again. it’s a chemical war. a stagnant bore.
compensates for the marathon of a weekly routine, these
bones can’t take much more. not quite a tragedy. vacant
streets, ninety-degree heat and this time i’ve caught fate by
the wings and if she screams it’s curtains for the dead. this
town is on fire and i’m on the hills smiling and laughing
knowing that my life has just begun.
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