We turn our filthy faces
Towards twilight
Nothing is right
We are highly
Sprung
Strung
Beautiful
Broken
Sore
Grit itches
Big as skyscrapers
Tearing out our eyes
Tracking our veins
Thick as night
Reaching our head
Where we have lost
All sense
Lips frothing
Ringing like a bell
Fetid
Red
Empty
But for dreams
And glue
What did you do in the war
Has it finished
Every can counts
Like a floral apostle
Willing in its mission
Failing in its vow
Fresh blood sugars our tears
This war is the glue
Which binds us together
We make a stand
Gloss over the words
Pay the price
Of love
And hate
Only rain falls as a blessing now
She crawls towards me
Let’s make a pact
To leave
To never come back
However much they push
And pull
They lie
Like flies in cherry pies
We hug the floor
Face to face
Her nest is foul
Rotten as cabbage
Sweet as our last breath
Maybe the streetcars
Are driving home
It’s hard to care much any more
Our heart dried out
Long ago
Same tired high
Same tired low
The buzz
The fall
Nothing is right
We are highly
Sprung
Strung
Only rain falls as a blessing now
Beautiful
Broken
Sore.
