A box of prescription drugs on my table.
It holds your name. Stating what is wrong with you.
Flaunting the details of where your body is
Failing.

You notice the hair on my pillow.
Shame.
Worried looks.
Anger.
I find none of it in your eyes.
You buy me razors.
"Do you need any help?" you ask.

Kisses on my bald scalp.
Beauty. Now we match even
Better.

sunlight brings these blessed moments
and i'd think twice before sleeping if these
cherry blossoms held me the way
i wish you would

This machine kills fascists
That's what it was born to do
Shared time with Woody Guthrie
As the Oklahoma cold winds blew

They played each other for the people
Moving many a poor man's soul
Riding the fine line of the times
But not enough time to grow old

Feeling the pangs of hunger
In the knowledge of right and wrong
Took what was left out of rights best
And tuned it up in song

Where this machine kills fascists
Cause that's what it was born to do
Hung out with Woody Guthrie
For a time of two