Wipe your eyes, my baby Marlboro and shotgun casings Pound piano keys and feel it in your bones, this fear you’re facing Because Debussy can’t take away the sound through unsubstantial apartment wall spacing Of neighbors screaming, growing skill in the use of debasing words We’re growing sage to burn alongside the memory of heart-breaking firsts That didn’t bring any fulfillment or remaining seconds and thirds We are witches, searching for potions to provoke hard spells To forget these troubles which were heard from the mouthpiece of hell Our black cats and crooked hats don’t hide the fact That these highs don’t last And soon we will remember why we left yesterday’s December behind Ice crackling softly in window panes becomes enough to remind us why— These things don’t leave the solitary, unhinged mind When there’s nothing else to replace what was once chased On agonizing below-zero winter days So wipe your eyes, my baby Wipe your eyes This won’t heal, not like the bullet wound and cigarette addiction That you always lose (And somehow manage to re-find).