1
I’m faltering at the edge of a shaky trigger finger.
When I die, please burn me to a crisp
(If I haven’t done so already, and if my brain is still intact)
And bury the remnants of a sad little boy
Under every house that ever hurt my fingers
With its splinters and creaky floors;
Its fathers with big boots, and scratchy stubble.

#2
Now I am stardust, and you are foam.
On the other side, you kiss me,
Pretend it would have meant
Something, sometime.

#3**
P.S. I am never owning up to
Owing you up to a hundred bucks
Because you didn’t believe in me hard enough
And I lost my wings. My only regret in dying is not
Yelling “*******” loud enough to melt your doubts off.