there was something so innocent
about sitting together
watching a cynical documentation
of brutality and homicide
and i couldn't bring myself
to watch an innocent man
get bludgeoned by a ***** driver
for fear i might imagine you
lying in his place
and it kills me knowing
that there's a clock ticking inside your head
secretly wishing that this was the end
you'd call it psychotic
we'd call it realistic
or maybe we can't comprehend
that this isn't quite innocence at all