Starved of oxygen and grasping
at breath, sleeping in subways
and aware always
that death is in the next tunnel.

these are the no chance crews
the Special Brew cases,
often blitzed and out of their
faces, either
incoherent or absent or both
and we never know
because we don't want to go
down that avenue.

today,
i wore it again
and people complimented me
they say red is my color
and it suits me.

today,
it's too thick and dark
did i overapply
no, it's the right amount
just enough
to make them think
i'm fine.

today,
i look at myself
in the mirror,
and they're right
red shines on me,
so i applied
another layer,
and another
until my lips felt too thick,
but my eyes still see
the scars beneath it.

.

Everytime I hotwired reality

I took a bite out of animosity


I followed all the wrong examples

Danced to the music I didn't know

I never knew the new ground

Before it brought me down


In the end we all dance to the music alone

Twirling until we are nowhere to be found



. . . . dancing our sorrow away . . . .


. . . . all the dying years enthused . . . .


. . . .  in the end keep the fire burning
         in your eyes . . . .


. . . . until the light in you reaches the sky . . . .