Crimson comes to those that wait but gold
it never does

Nights in neon hazes on ***** bar stools
transient coffins on sticky floors

Snatching seraphim from pipe dream myths

Wishes come true at the worst moments,
through jaded smiles

+

Another round we lie, from our mouths,
these glossy eyes

Sacrifice nothing to the looking

The walking dead speak with conviction of their
so called lives

Lived in palor boxes and unbalenced columns
where they

Die each week, come full circle to us
fo-cherubs

In hopes of being reborn.