Fleshy skeletons wander into busy intersections
looking for a force fierce enough to beat some feeling into them
(like the freshly waxed hood of a Lamborghini)

Between hollow eye sockets and rotting teeth there is a boy who thought he went crazy every night as he dangled his feet on the cliff of sleep
and a dark angel who smiled like ivory tusks
and blinded everyone in its wake.

Among the talk of weekend plans and long car rides and lazy smoke rings that fog up dreams
a girl floats, caught in the undertow of the afternoon breeze.
she is taken by the pink-painted sky reflected in the windows.

Insecurity drips from the lipless,
throats rubbed raw on a long drive
on a road that winds out into no where.
Seventeen and screaming fear into the dark,
hoping the linen-skinned boys will hear

Silent and sleepless
we dance to songs we'll write when we're old,
we sip death in modest doses
(some faster than others)
we read sad things and we laugh and we kiss and then
we somersault out of our skins,
just as we began.