the culture cut into our wrists.
feeling all or nothing was the trick.
kurt and elliot were dead,
pretty prescriptions we all wed.

we talked vicious and vague.
it kept our parents afraid.
only bought music if it was recorded in omaha.
quoted lyrics to the traditionals, oh my god.

the corners of every corridor were crammed.
glazed eyes making meaningless, drifting forlorn.
"i feel sad"
"gee, that's awful bad."

if they weren't depressed,
they were called liars.
if they were on anti-depressants,
they were kings.
if they attempted suicide,
they were a pope.

projections we were.
of all the dead words we heard.