Everyone’s sleepwalking through city square
It’s twelve fifty seven
And seventy families have bled black against Israel’s rockets

Come Sunday morning
The drunks in my hometown
Will be too hungover to recognise their own faces
While Palestinians across the world
Will have to sort through the bones of dead relatives

This country was built on colonial empathy
Freedom from suffering through self-absorbed apathy

We’re all sewn to our seats
Caring for nothing

you built a city
inside my ribs
then left.

Lidless wreath
Blind me with your teeth
Bone white, chalk lines; bitter retreat

I’ll sing through the embers
Of our charred reverie
A brick & mortar apartment
Holding three dead children
We flee.

Bright and cavalier
You wring out your neck
With heavy hands

Show me a tongue without an anchor
Glistening eyes without glamour
Are you filled empty
With crowd mentality?

Your swell of bitter laughter
Is cruelty incandescent as fire

I have framed you
In soft pewter blues
For too long

You are an arc of indelible
Electricity
Thunder clapping through
My broken heart
In an endless winter storm

Perfect little ******* crowd
Laugh your lungs out
Swear humiliation
Sweat indifference

Salt your licks
Sever empathy
One death rattle
One night only

******* entertain me
Entertain me
Pillow talk massacre
Conscience guillotine

If only lovers lasted
As long as mistakes