We lived in a haze
as nicotine coated the sky that summer
and you were coughing up cacophonies
creating caustic clarity
until you were smothering me.
Lamenting our subtle insanity
we were burning up from our fingertips
without ever moving an inch.
Berating concrete jungles
laid out in strip malls.
We dropped whispers in beer bottles
and manifestos in ash trays.
As snide judgment sneered through slitted eyes
and snakes gave way to tongues.
We built an empire in disintegrated misery.

So write this down:

Blame not the tabloids.
Blame not the patriarchy.
Blame the generation.

As they are blissfully jaded
and they are propping up our pedestals.
As they crown us with misguided jewels
in awe of our fortress.

But then the smoke thinned
and the air bit our skin.
My ears burned with antipathy.
It was dripping off our pens
as your words turned black against the fire.
And my mouth grew numb before me.