At 5:00 am
We  take on the identities
Hidden beneath the car seats
All nauseous guilt
And sunrise afterthoughts
Your fingers shake while the
Fire takes its place in the sky
And you've been up all night
Deciding which way he'll break your heart this time
But it's not a certain someone's fault
How we belong to no one
The same way no one belongs to us
And everything built on or around an amen or hallelujah

Delusions set in with the dawn
Like am I sleeping or dead
And I make big plans to string lights
On the porch
Like one glimpse at Christmas and my mouth goes magnetic

We were born side by side
Invasion of the body snatchers
Bluish hair cut and swept from the salon floor
We both got lost in each others curls
If I could return to a certain October
Believe me, I would
Some kind of magic in the way you were lying dead on the highway
Like I breathed that sparkling dragon powder through your lungs
And resurrection took shape as a boy named You

We live on the line between two worlds
Boys and girls and the animal collective
We reside on the scientist's bookshelves
All this attraction or lack thereof
Dancing in the dark when we're pushed to the brink of normalcy
Your wrists remain the sole body part that ever made my veins shake

What is a guitar, but something to smash off the bedroom walls or throw from the roof?

I'll invade your recreational days
In D.C., Canada, or Maine
I'll push my wrists through your favorite drinks
At the basement show, local bar, and skating rink

You are not dead, but your actions are post-mortem

I write you letters of apology
A certain kind of eulogy
A never ending repetition of hand references
You gather evidence from my numb inferences

I don't recommend your behavior
Leaving me on the bathroom floor
Loving someone and throwing them to the flame
We drown ourselves without ending this game

You are not dead, but your actions are post-mortem

And maybe one day
I'll tell you about the night
I tied my wrist to your ribcage

And how I don't have the heart
To cut myself free

Maybe I'll get published
And you can read your name
In a literary magazine
Yeah, maybe I'll get published
And make a couple bucks
Or better yet, struck by a bus
So you can visit my bedside
And play out that hospice epilogue
That's been reeling through our
Brain cells
Since the first Fall apart

These days I'm writing in red ink
Trying hard to get back to blue

Lying in bed in the late parts of May
Fingertips cracking in numb disarray
I never thought your voice would stick
To my throat box or glove box or melodies, thick

You return to the trailer park with warm ****** laughs
And mosquitos they bite you, your head and your calves
But you don't think of me and ******* I wish
That your arms would go shaking to catch my red drift

And you barely remember that night in the car
When the rosary played and we went way too far
Cause you blocked it all out with my notes and my screams
Now your lips exist nowhere but inside my dreams

And how will I ever get past your wild curls
Or your questioning laugh, warding off other girls
For you've hurt quite a list in your short twenty years
Now I can't find a difference between Windows and mirrors