It’s too comfortable to write
In light so bright my sarcasm wont bite
So I’d rather wax intellectual in the freezing cold
Let my icy lungs ****
In some tar and I’ll
Hold everything I say
As
True
If only we could compile clues
We’d see
All the bodies we buried to be moderately happy
But still I’ve done worse things
While eye’s rolled in the back of their heads
Averting your vision
Can be the only tactic in your book
Of smarmy one liners
That all seem to be blunt remarks about my size
Which is fine
Worse things have been said
During diner conversations
We counted off the ways in music how we’d be a bonnie and Clyde
And if the220 razor wires grins sewed of mouths off cheating friends
88 sharp teeth gleaming, of devilish plots we were scheming
52 white knuckles clenched over getaway cars, or benches in parks watching false stars
36 black stares something about face mauling and bears, but I didn’t care that we only had
7 seconds to make it out with the money
5 eye’s wide open to ceiling fans or a lack their of
1 reason to wake up
And in such a way we could be writing pings on sound recorders put it just goes silent with the senseless bashing of fists on porcelain/.
but in the end we can only hope it means nothing
or as empty as air
or as simple as breathing
-Kevin T