i.
thread the words like carcasses of meaning,
through the needle of your pen as it collapses on the paper
a waste of ink and a first taste of denial. an ominous sun
peaks through the mountains, awash in the amber pink of dawn
sounds of screaming and bullet-words from upstairs bedrooms.
a crush of emptiness to drown out the song. wish i knew
what's going on.

ii.
mother glances at me with blameful eyes,
cracks the bible with a broken spine
holy book bleeding fancy-type words into admonishments
and prohibitions, exaltations for no god
i could ever believe in; tell me i'm an accident
tell me i'm shameful. she tells me i've got it
all wrong; turn away
and say - once she's stopped listening - "mommy
jesus christ can't save me now."

iii.
should have never told the truth,
should have always exhaled the lies.
should have roiled with doubt in silence
grappled with guilt, a battle of fates. hope it's not
too late. wish i could go back to clearer skies
face reality and do something wise.
wish i could wake up and shut my eyes.

iv.
just fuck it up all over again, right??