I used to go to the Bryce Hospital cemetery
at night and sit on a tombstone overlooking the Black Warrior River .
I used to talk to the dead but I gave it up after none of them answered back .
Still I was at ease there in the dark amongst their remains . I had no fears , no worries , no thought of tomorrow . Just a gentle touch of acceptance . I guess you could call it peace .

In one motion
I pulled a flower from the Earth
Brought it to my face
And threw it over my shoulder
You laughed with your lips and eyelashes
My other hand I took a drag of a cigarette
and spit salvia through my teeth at the dirt
Soup salad and break sticks baby
Iced coffee honey
You want it now baby?
In this patch of grass honey?
You always do this **** she said.
You always make me feel stupid.
{maybe that's because you are}
You always make me feel like it's never good enough.

she used to tell me I was poison
to everyone but to her
I was medicine
we met in sin
six drinks in
she used to tell me I was perfect
with red cheeks
I was an open book
she used to call to say goodnight
and call to say I'm poison
and used to call to cry and tell me she's sick
she used to call
she used to call
now the phone doesn't move
I'm poison

The pickaxe was charming
And you once were whole
But the tanned laborer
Burnt brown by the sun
Made the pickaxe sing
Whistle in the wind
You felt the impact
The pickaxe once so charming
Broke you in two
These broken rocks
Fields strewn with your saddest story
About how time erodes
And the hand of man
Destroys
You were there in the beginning
The earth started spinning with you
Your witness to creation
Your abysmal ghost
You were there in the beginning
And all your broken pieces
Your bitter memory
Will be there in the end
With words unspoken
Shouting louder than the dying sun
All your broken pieces
Will be there in the end
To testify

Forty dollars of *****
151 ***
You will find me in the alley
a drunken ***
Lights flashing in my brain
Spinning gripping my soul
Ecstacy in alcoholic rage
Writing off the page
I raise the flag
To Ira Hayes
A fallen hero
And his last days