poetry is dead
which is to say

god is dead
which is to say

mankind is alive
which is to say

hello
which is to say

goodbye.
each atom splitting like

meat cleaver to skull,
teeth to wishbone.

tongue wrapped around firework
wrapped around bleeding bullet heart.

i want him to tell me
i taste like milk and honey.

like rose petal wine,
like those organic strawberries my father refuses to buy.

i want him to tell me
i feel like shrapnel.

like serpent skin,
like sand paper scrape.

i want him to tell me
loving me is hard

which is to say
i want him to tell me the truth.

the truth is dead
which is to say

‘i love you’
which is to say

'you taste like gunpowder’
which is to say

'i’d go to war for you’
which is to say

'wake up,
poetry is dead.’