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.