I cheated, I played the Gibson
So my song sounded better
So your eyes wound up wetter
I didn't mean to make you cry
But I couldn't hug you, not while
You wore that barber's cape
So I just played another song
But I strummed it on a Sigma

he left his lighter
on the sink
dark blue looked good against
crackled porcelain
better than it ever looks
in my brother's hand

but i dropped it there,
nonetheless

i woke with a **** and
a windpipe full of butterflies, so i
swallowed them down to my chest
my stomach and below and
it was then that i realized
they weren't butterflies
but backward flies
that turn to maggots and
eat dead things

so it was then that i realized
i was dead, in between that
chasing-my-breath consciousness and
sepia splotched dream
which featured my favorite
human being
waking me, winding me
up...

hey saige, come on, so i
unlocked my eyes
even though i knew it was my
little brother
all along...

bright
cobwebbed windows at my
feet and
brighter fringe above me
brushing my forehead, like fingers
he leaned
over me, nudged me
hugged me, come on
saige...

i began to rise, which is why
he stopped me, that's when he
kissed me, and that's when i
forgave him
because i knew it was
an accident
except for, that was when
he did it
again...

my lips inside his, and
i kept my eyes
open
kept telling myself to
just kiss back, since we'd
already ruined everything, because
that was all he
wanted
because maybe
we could go back, maybe we'd still be
inseparable if
i hadn't screamed, enough!
maybe nightmares
are second chances at
being better
best friends...

i was torn
worn threadbare and i felt it
in every fiber of me
lying there, but i couldn't
pull away and i've
never wished to hurt him, so i
couldn't push, either
just clamped my eyes
shut, as he did the same
with his mouth...

and that was when
i woke
without a soul nor a shame
save for the maggots
in my veins

"enough to make the angels weep,"
you sigh through the ash.

“you still believe in angels?”

“nah." we glow red from this rooftop
sparks melt into the milky way.
"but i might believe in handsome devils.”

i roll my eyes and punch your arm
you smile, crooked as the moon.
the ember of your cigarette flares
a chameleon to the skyline.

at last we can
blame our tears on the smoke.